


One Year With The King

by Nightflower (Blue_Night)



Series: Trifels: Tales and Legends from the Pfälzer Wald [5]
Category: Football RPF, Historical RPF, Original Work
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adultery, Alternate Universe - Historical, Anal Sex, Attempted Murder, Betrayal, Blow Jobs, Brothers, Canon-Typical Violence, Cheating, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Fights, First Love, Graphic Description, Hand Jobs, Historical Inaccuracy, Horses, Imprisonment, Jealousy, Kissing, Legends, M/M, Major Character Injury, Making Love, Middle Ages, Minor Character Death, Monks, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Religion, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Romance, Thunderstorms, Tournaments, Weapons, knight in shining armor, mentioning of non-consensual heterosexual sex, non-sexual children abuse, rescue from a cruel fate, story in the story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-15 21:16:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 36
Words: 157,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7238806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Night/pseuds/Nightflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik is one of Robert the Earl of Lindelborn's squires, and he is chosen to be one of the guards protecting and watching king Richard the Lionheart during his stay on Castle Trifels as Heinrich VI.'s hostage. What will happen when he is even chosen to become Richard's personal guard and squire?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introductions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Arrested](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arrested/gifts).



> Dear Arrested, this story is my way of showing you how much I love your boys Wamba and Oscar. I mused a long time about a story you could enjoy, and I didn't want to mess with your OCs, but I thought that you wouldn't mind me using your amazing king Richard the Lionheart as a pattern for this story. His stay on Castle Trifels was a good opportunity for doing that, even more because I live rather closely to this former imperial castle. The re-built doesn't resemble the real ancient castle of course, but the rock where it was built upon is still the same and so is the atmosphere. I also mused a rather long time about whom to pair Richard with, and I decided to make this story a part of my Trifels-series and use my favorite boys to write about, if you want to know how the footballers I have chosen look like you can google Erik Durm, Mario Götze and Robert Lewandowski. I changed Mario's name into the in the middle ages more common 'Marian'. The rating of this story will change along the ride.
> 
> My English is nowhere near as good as yours, but I do my best and I hope you will like this story, each chapter will be about one month of Richard's imprisonment.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short summary and the introduction of the characters showing up in this story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Arrested, I decided to add a short chapter with a list of my characters and whether they are based on living people or not for the better understanding of this story. :-)

_The Pfälzer Wald where this story takes place in all its glory:_

  
__

This multi-chapter WIP is a story about the imprisonment of Richard Plantagenet, called the Lionheart. King Richard II. of England was the hostage of emperor Heinrich VI. from March 1193 until February 1194, and he spent most of his captivity on the imperial castle sitting enthroned on top of the mountain near the village Annweiler in the Pfälzer Forest and which is called like the rock it is built upon: Trifels.

I will stick to most of the proved information we have about Richard and his time as a hostage, but this story is born out of my imagination, completely. My Richard will fall in love with a beautiful young squire, Erik of Thanstein and he will have to overcome a lot of obstacles and hardships along the way, but he will also enjoy the sweetness and miracles of true love.

I will also include two legends in this story: the legend of the minstrel Blondel who wandered through ancient Germany in desperate search of his king to free him from his imprisonment, and there will also be a German Robin Hood and his companions showing up in this story.

I hope you will enjoy this little medieval fairytale, here are the persons playing a main role or at least a rather important roles for the better understanding:

 

Richard Plantagenet, called the Lionheart, King of England:        real historical person

Erik of Thanstein:                                                                       loosely based on the footballer Erik Durm

Robert, Earl of Lindelborn:                                                          loosely based on the footballer Robert Lewandowski

Marian of Lewenberc:                                                                 loosely based on the footballer Mario Götze

Blondel the minstrel:                                                                  loosely based on the footballer Marco Reus

Nuri, the equerry of Castle Trifels:                                              loosely based on the footballer Nuri Sahin

Matthias, the leader of the Forest People (Karl Matthias of Loewenstein):            loosely based on the footballer Matthias Ginter

Jonas, Matthias' mate:                                                                 loosely based on the footballer Jonas Hofmann

Brother Hilarius:                                                                          original character

Emperor Heinrich VI.:                                                                  real historical person

Lisa of Lewenberc, Erik's sister:                                                   loosely based on Lisa Durm

Comte Gardiola:                                                                          very loosely based on a former trainer of the FCB

Auba, Matthias' third-in-command:                                            loosely based on the footballer Pierre-Emerick Aubameyang

Oscar, the servant, Erik's friend:                                                  loosely based on Arrested's original character Oscar

Bernhard, the former leader of the Forest People:                       loosely based on the former footballer Bernd Schneider

Mathis of Falkenstein:                                                                 loosely based on the footballer Mats Hummels

Benedict of Wilenstein:                                                                loosely based on the footballer Benedikt Höwedes

Julian of Weglnburg:                                                                    loosely based on the footballer Julian Draxler

Lars, one of Robert's warriors:                                                     loosely based on the footballer Lars Bender

Sven, one of Robert's warriors and Lars' twin:                              loosely based on the footballer Sven Bender

Jakub, one of Robert's warriors:                                                   loosely based on the footballer Jakub Blaszczykowski

Roman, one of Robert's warriors:                                                loosely based on the footballer Roman Bürki

Lukasz, one of Robert's warriors:                                                loosely based on the footballer Lukasz Piszczek

Fabian of Lewenberc, Lisa's husband:                                          loosely based on the footballer Fabian Götze

 

Other characters will be added along the way. :-)


	2. March 1193: Arrival on Castle Trifels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik accompanies Robert, the Earl of Lindelborn to Castle Trifels where they will guard the king of England, Richard the Lionheart during his time as Heinrich Vi:'s hostage. Little does he know how much his life will change, soon...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter is more or less an introduction of the characters Erik, Robert, Marian and Richard of England, of course. Richard was comitted to the emperor Heinrich VI. in Speyer on March, the 28th, their arrival on Castle Trifels was shortly after. This story is based on the little information we have about these almost twelve months, but it is not historical accurate but fanfiction.
> 
> Erik Durm: Erik, son of the Baron of Thanstein  
> Robert Lewandowski: Robert, Earl of Lindelborn  
> Mario Götze: Marian, son of the Baron of Lewenberc
> 
> The mentioned castles all existed in the year this story is settled in, but there are no information about the owners during this period, and they are my own creations.

The sight was truly breathtaking, and Erik involuntarily pulled at the reins of his vivid mare as he looked up at the most impressive castle imaginable, gaping at the in the surprisingly bright spring sun shining buildings in awe and wonder. His mount didn't take the harsh treatment well though, as it showed its displeasure by standing on its hind legs with a shrill neigh, forcing the young rider to grab the fox-colored mane for proper hold with that.

“You better keep your eyes on your beast before your fundament makes an acquaintance with the dust of the street, you don't want to embarrass yourself in front of the emperor's housekeeper and all the noblemen already waiting for us in Castle Trifels by presenting them your dusty backside, do you, Erik?” the rider on his right side chuckled with amusement, and Erik found himself blushing, furiously.

“Of course not, Sir Robert,” he mumbled, grateful that his stubborn mare finally decided to behave like she was supposed to behave again. She neighed one last time rather reproachfully but at least lowered herself down on all four legs and moved forward again.

The older man with the black hair and the piercing blue eyes shook his head with amusement, a cheerful smile letting his blue eyes sparkle. Robert, Earl of Lindelborn of course didn't have the same problems as Erik had, being an experienced rider who had spent a lot of time in the saddle. Erik served him as one of his squires for one year by now, and the young nobleman took his services very seriously and thanked his master for being kind and understanding where others would have used the whip or other punishments by always giving his best and fulfilling his duties with greatest care.

“It's only – I've never seen Castle Trifels beforehand – not as closely as now at least, and it is simply...” Erik tried to explain, and Robert eventually took pity on him and bent to the side to pat his shoulder. “Yes, I know what you mean, Erik. I reacted the same way as you did when I saw it for the first time. Just wait until we're finally there. It is much bigger than Castle Thanstein or even Castle Lindelbron, and I have to keep an eye on you so you won't get lost.” The earl winked at him with his left eye, and Erik's blush deepened. “I will take good care of not getting lost,” he promised, shooting a furtive sidelong glance at the young man riding at Robert's other side to see whether or not the sight of Castle Trifels impressed his fellow as much as it had impressed him. Marian's face showed a bored expression though, and when he caught Erik's glance, he merely shrugged his shoulders. “I've been here with Sir Robert last year, Erik, you will get used to the sight,” he only said, his annoyance about the earl being occupied with the new squire only clear to see in his eyes.

Erik sighed, because Marian's jealousy of him made a lot of things much harder. Not that the shorter brunet would have needed to be jealous of Erik, because Robert treated them as equals and didn't have a bias towards Erik, but Marian, the son of the Baron of Lewenberc kept a jealous watch over his position as Robert's first squire and reacted annoyed each time he thought his position in danger by Erik or one of the younger knaves.

Robert seemed to sense the tension between them, because he turned his head to gaze strictly at both of them. “Enough of this. We will still need more than one hour to reach Castle Trifels, and we have to prepare everything for the emperor's arrival. Heinrich won't stay for long, but he surely expects us to have everything in order for his prominent guest.”

Marian made big eyes. “Guest? I thought that King Richard is his prisoner.” The Earl of Lindelbron quirked his eyebrow at him. “Did you really believe that our emperor would throw him into his dungeon, boy? King Richard might be his prisoner, but he is the king of England, and he will be treated as such, with all privileges and honors his status requires. He won't be allowed to leave the castle without guards, but he will be treated like a welcomed and appreciated guest, don't you ever forget that, Marian!”

The so told off squire hung his head. “Of course, Sir Robert,” he murmured, subdued, avoiding Erik's eyes. Erik didn't feel any schadenfreude, because he hadn't been sure about the king's treatment, either.

King Richard. Richard the Lionheart.

What an impressive name. Erik was curious about the foreign king, and he was proud that his master, the rather young Earl of Lindelborn had been chosen to be the head of the king's personal guards together with his men during Richard's stay in Castle Trifels. Maybe, he would even be allowed to talk to Richard himself, but he truly doubted that. He had never had the opportunity to be a part of the emperor's court, and he surely wouldn't get the chance to serve Robert during the feasts. Marian was the first squire, and he was much more experienced when it came to this. But maybe, he would be allowed to be a part of the king's escort if he proved himself worthy of that, and the young nobleman started to dream a vivid reverie as he followed the Earl of Lindelbron upwards the steep path leading to the imperial castle sitting enthroned on one of the highest mountains of his beautiful homeland.

 

***

 

Erik had needed several days to settle in in Castle Trifels, the huge castle complex actually being a small city on its own with all the houses and buildings belonging to it. The castle grounds reached down from the red-colored rock that had given the castle its name down to the half of the mountain, the small cabins of the countless servants and maids crowding together with the stables of the livestock and the stalls of the craftsmen and merchants.

After seeing to unpacking their belongings and preparing everything for the arrival of the prominent guests, Robert had given his squires three days off, and Erik had spent these days with wandering around to get to know the castle better and become capable of orientating himself in the future. Marian had accompanied him now and then, offering him some kind of cautious truce and providing him with some useful information about the castle where they would spend the next weeks and months.

The week before the emperor Heinrich VI. would honor one of his most important imperial castles with his visit went by with countless duties and training units because the young earl was a very strict teacher when it came to this. The painful blisters on Erik's palms and fingers were the visible proof and a constant reminder that Robert wouldn't let him put his sword to the side until he had learned his lessons well. Marian sharing the small bedroom with him that belonged to Robert's rather splendid chambers complained about the hard training each evening when they got ready for sleeping, keeping Erik awake with his whining until the taller brunet was tempted to shut him up with a gag.

“You know the importance of our training, Marian. We belong to the king's guards, and we need to protect him and keep him safe and sound at all cost. Richard the Lionheart might be the emperor's hostage, but our ruler surely doesn't want any harm coming to him, so stop complaining. You could have stayed in Castle Lindelborn, couldn't you?”

Marian rolled his eyes at that. “No, I couldn't have. I'm Sir Robert's first squire, he can't do without me! Do you really think that I would let you dork serve him? You would put him to shame each single time you would have to serve him at the emperor's table, spilling his wine and dropping the food onto his lap. No way that I would let you take my hard earned position!” the other squire growled, offended, pulling at his boots. “And why do you call the English king Richard the Lionheart all of the time? One could think that you have a crush on him. You didn't even meet him so far!”

Erik blushed, turning his head away and busying himself with darning the hole in one of his woolen socks. “Others call king Richard the 'Lionheart', as well,” he defended himself, “even Sir Robert calls him by this name now and then. Aren't you curious to meet him?”

He could see the other one shrugging his shoulders from the corner of his eyes. “Not really. All I care about is serving Sir Robert the best way possible, making him happy with that and being his first squire,” Marian admitted, silently, and Erik flinched because the implication of Marian's words had taken him by surprise and he had stung himself with the needle. “Ouch!” he sucked on his finger to stop the bleeding, eyeing the shorter knave, attentively. “You have a crush on Sir Robert!” he blurted out, and Marian flinched. “Be quiet, will you! He could hear you!” he hissed through gritted teeth, and Erik could see the deep redness coloring his softly rounded cheeks despite the rather gloomy light of the early night.

“I'm sorry.” Erik lowered his voice. He inwardly slapped himself because of his blindness, Marian's sometimes hostile behavior and the reason for it being quite clear to him after his confession. “Your secret is safe with me, Marian, I promise you. Plus, you don't have to be jealous of me, I'm not interested in taking your position. Apart from that, Robert would never do that to you, he truly likes you and cares about you, and you are serving him the best way possible, don't worry about that.”

Marian exhaled a sigh, raising his head to meet his gaze. “Are you sure, Erik?”

“Yes, I am sure. I think he likes you, too,” Erik confirmed, smiling at his companion before examining his finger. Luckily, the needle hadn't damaged the blister he still had, Erik had seen rather harmless wounds turning into severe injuries when they got infected, and he really didn't want to risk losing one of his fingers and having to leave his master because of that.

“You do?” Marian cocked his head to the side, returning the smile. “I'm sorry for my behavior, Erik, I was jealous,” he admitted offering his hand to him. Erik took it to exchange a firm handshake. “Yes, I know. You don't have to be jealous, Marian. I'm grateful to be Sir Robert's squire, he is a kind master and a skilled warrior who can teach me what I need to know to perhaps become one of the emperor's guards myself one day, but that's all I want.”

Marian's smile was genuine. “Friends, then?” he asked, a little bit sheepishly, and Erik nodded his head. “Friends, Marian.”

 

***

 

Heinrich VI. welcomed Richard I. the Lionheart in Speyer on March, 28th, and the news that the emperor and the foreign king would arrive the next day on Castle Trifels spread out very quickly. Erik was nervous like hell when he got up from his small cot before dawn to wash himself with the cold water in the bowl on the small table opposite their beds, trying to get his rather unruly and thick light-brown hair in some order. Marian still lazing in his bed watched him with a smirk, but he didn't tease him, and Erik was deeply grateful for that.

Breakfast was a hasty matter and Erik was relieved to see that even Robert was nervous and unsettled, checking the clothing and the weapons of his underlings more than only once or twice.

Erik didn't know what he had expected, but the arrival of the emperor and his entourage somehow happened to be rather unceremoniously. Heinrich rode into the front court of the castle with a straight back and his head held up high, and he was for certain an impressive sight, rather young for the burden of sovereignty pressing down on his shoulders, but he seemed to be sure about himself and his power.

Erik standing in the second line behind the Earl of Lindelborn and some other barons and earls waiting to attend upon their ruler couldn't help but crane his neck to get a better look at the happenings, and even though he was impressed by the young emperor, but the unknown rider beside him caught his attention much more.

Erik was rather tall himself, towering most of his companions, but he could see right away that the English king must be taller than he himself. His handsome, aristocratic features gave nothing away of what he was thinking as he looked around and took in his surroundings, and Erik found himself incapable of averting his eyes from Richard I. of England. The beautiful stallion he was riding stomped his hooves, but Richard soothed him with a pat on his shining white neck and his mount snorted and stood perfectly still.

The young squire bent his knee before their sovereign and his royal hostage together with the other noblemen, murmuring some kind of respectful greeting and peering to the side to see if he had lowered his head enough, before hectic activity broke out to help the newcomers from their horses and accompany them to their chambers.

Erik suddenly was pushed to the side and forward rather harshly, and before he knew what happened to him, he found himself standing beside the nervous stallion the king of England was just about to dismount. “Ah, young knave, you're coming to my help?” Richard asked fluently in Erik's mother tongue, his voice a warm baritone. Erik stumbled back with a blink of his eyes, too surprised to react in time.

“Hey, boy, get out of the king's way!” a man of the entourage snarled, pulling rudely at Erik's arm, but Richard lifted his hand up before the aristocrat could shove Erik to the ground. “No, let him go!” he ordered without raising his voice, his natural authority being enough to make the grimly looking man step back and murmur an excuse with a bow of his head. “Of course, sire, as you wish.”

Erik swallowed as the king turned to him again with the faintest hint of a smile. “You wanted to help me, young knave?” he asked again, and Erik could feel his cheeks heating up while the rest of his face must be snow-white at this moment. “Yes, your majesty, I mean, I wanted to ask for orders, but someone bumped into me, pushing me in your way...” he went silent, lowering his head because this had to be a nightmare. He had offended the king of England right within the first minutes of his stay in Castle Trifels, and the sovereign of this foreign country would surely be angry now and ask the emperor to punish him. He had put his kind master Robert, Earl of Lindelborn to shame, and Erik's only wish was that the ground underneath him would open up and swallow him.

“I see.” Richard's voice sounded thoughtfully. “What's your name, young knave?”

Erik risked a look at the king's face. “Erik, sire. My name is Erik. My father is the baron of Castle Thanstein, and I joined the household of the Earl of Lindelbron last year. My master will take care of all of your needs and see to your safety during your stay on Castle Trifels,” Erik said, biting his lip because he most likely had said too much again.

“I see,” Richard repeated, handing the reins of his stallion to the nobleman who had Erik told off earlier. The stunned man degraded to a stable boy with that blushed but obeyed, leading the horse to the royal stables. The king waited until he was out of earshot, not caring about the other servants and the guards waiting for him to follow Heinrich VI to the pallas. “Erik, hm, a beautiful name, it suits you. Very well, Erik of Thanstein, what do you think? Would you agree to becoming my personal guard and my squire during my time here on this proud castle? I rather choose the one being my shadow and constant companion here myself than letting all of these arrogant noblemen fighting for this honor come that close to me.”

Erik gaped at the king, not sure whether or not his ears had played tricks on him, but when Richard looked back at him, his face serious and now displaying growing impatience, he realized that the king hadn't made a joke, at all.

“I-I would be honored, sire,” was all he could croak out, and Richard I. the Lionheart nodded contentedly and waved at him to follow him. “I'm pleased to hear that, Erik. Come with me, the emperor is waiting for us,” he said and Erik did as he had been told, stumbling after the taller one with shaky legs and a racing heart.

 

_The view on Castle Trifels from one of its neighbor castles:_

  



	3. April 1193: Serving the King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik has become king Richard's personal squire and guard, and he tries to get used to his new role and position now, which is easier than he has first feared it would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Arrested, I am so happy that you like this story, I couldn't resist to write the second chapter right away. :-)  
> This chapter is referring to the little information I found about Richard's imprisonment and the court council in Hagenau in April 1193, but I decided to focus on Erik's relationship with Richard and his post as his squire in this story, so I left the council out, because I also don't know enough about it. There will be more about the accusations and the reasons why Heinrich VI. kept Richard his hostage in the first place, but this fic is supposed to be a romantic fairytale and not a lesson about history, I hope you won't mind that. Erik and Richard are slowly getting closer, and the king admits his homesickness. I am aware that Richard I. spent only little time in England, he actually preferred France, but I stayed in character with your Richard in this story, who loves England.  
> I hope you will enjoy the second chapter as much as the first one, please let me know if you did. :-)

A couple of days later, Erik still tried to wrap his head around what had just happened to him. The young squire remembered vaguely that he had followed the king of England into the pallas and bent his knee before the emperor once more, when Richard had told Heinrich rather frankly that he had chosen the unknown and unimportant son of the Baron of Thanstein to be his personal squire and guard during his stay.

The young emperor had raised his eyebrow at that and scrutinized Erik who had knelt there, frozen in place, his cheeks coloring deep red for the umpteenth time. “Are you sure that you really want him to serve you? He looks rather young and inexperienced. Maybe, an older squire or one of the other noblemen would be better for this post?” Heinrich VI. had turned his head to look at the king standing beside his throne-like chair, having to crane his neck to gaze at the older man. Erik had hardly dared to breathe while he had waited for the English sovereign to realize the stupidity of his impromptu decision and change his mind again, but Richard the Lionheart's determined posture had left no doubt that he wouldn't reconsider this matter.

“Yes, I am sure, sire. This knave might be young and inexperienced, but he will learn and serve me well,” Richard had only stated, and Heinrich had given in with a short nod of his head. “Fair enough, if that's what you truly want, Richard, then we will grant you this wish to make your stay here as comfortable as possible. We'll have to discuss the contract, but this can wait until you have settled in here. There will be a feast tonight to welcome you on Castle Trifels, the Earl of Lindelbron will show you your rooms and see to you having everything you'll need.”

With these words, the royal hostage had been dismissed, and Erik had stumbled onto his feet to hurry after his new master and help him settling in in his rooms. Marian had shot him disbelieving glances the entire time, obviously unable to believe that the king of England wanted the second squire of a young earl he hadn't known until that day to be his personal guard.

Erik still couldn't believe that himself, even not after fulfilling these duties for almost one week by now, and he was still amazed that Robert had accepted the sudden promotion of his squire just as if he had expected something like this to happen.

Serving Richard actually wasn't so different from serving Robert but, the constant wariness and cautiousness he felt to avoid serious mistakes and accidental offenses wearied Erik, and he was hardly able to keep his eyes open during the long feasts and afterwards, when he helped the king getting ready for bed.

It was almost a miracle that he hadn't spilled the wine or dropped the food so far, and Erik was proud of himself, but he knew that he needed to keep up his cautiousness instead of acting too self-confident, which would lead inevitably to him putting not only himself to shame, but also the king and the Earl of Lindelbron. During the nights, he slept like a log in his small cot, his room now the small chamber next to Richard's magnificent chambers. He almost missed Marian's chattering and bitching, but only almost, being grateful to have some time on his own at least during the rather short nights.

The English sovereign was friendlier than Erik had actually expected him to be, considering him, musingly, from time to time, and he had even told him to go to bed one night when Erik had had to lean against the wall for support because of his exhaustion.

“I can help myself, Erik,” Richard had told him, almost gently, and Erik had blinked and pushed himself away from the wall. “I'm so sorry, your majesty, I don't know what has gotten into me. I will see to my duties now like I am supposed to do and accept each punishment you'll see fit for my impudence,” Erik had blurted out, shocked about his own behavior, but Richard had only raised one royal eyebrow at him. “I don't think that an exhaustion like you obviously feel can be called impudence, young knave,” he had stated with friendly mockery, “just put yourself to bed before I'll have to carry you there, will you?”

Erik had blushed again, something that seemed to be his new habit, and apologized at least three times before he had done as he had been ordered to, falling onto the straw mat of his cot without undressing more than his boots, his velvet tunic and his trousers. The king had behaved as if nothing had happened the next morning, and Erik had done his best to make up for his behavior and seen to his duties with greatest care.

Now, two days later, he stood behind Richard's chair, stiff as a poker, listening to the debate between the emperor and his English hostage with an impassive face. At least, he hoped that his face showed an impassive expression, he wasn't sure whether or not he really succeeded with his tries.

“I won't sign this contract, sire!” Richard had just stated, his prominent jaw settled into a grim display of anger. Erik didn't think that this was a clever move, because he might be the king of England, but Heinrich outranked him, being the emperor of the Holy Roman Empire, and Richard was actually the emperor's hostage who should surely show more willingness to cooperate.

The son of the baron of Thanstein let his gaze wander between both men, comparing them, silently. Heinrich VI. was for certain an impressive appearance, he was good looking and radiated authority and confidence, but Erik found yet the king of England to be much more impressive and outstanding. Maybe, it was his age, because Richard was thirty-five and therefore seven years older than Heinrich being only twenty-eight, but Erik didn't think that this was the only difference between them. The older man radiated the aura of an experienced warrior, and he seemed to believe in himself and his abilities like only few people Erik had met so far did.

Perhaps, he had also some good reasons for his refusal, and his next words confirmed that. “The Holy Father Coelestin III. doesn't take my imprisonment well, you know that, sire, don't you? You captured a crusader, and the Holy Father might excommunicate you for that sacrilege!”

Erik bit back a surprised and horrified gasp, and Heinrich pressed his lips to a thin line. “Not if I'm proving to him that you are a collaborator who conspired with Saladin to murder the king of Jerusalem, Konrad of Montferrat,” the emperor growled, but Richard leaned back in his chair and shrugged his shoulders, pursing his lips. “Good luck with that, sire. I'm not guilty of what you're accusing me, and I am convinced that my innocence will be proved before the court and the Holy Church.”

Erik had to suppress another sound, this time a gasp of admiration. He knew that he should take the side of his emperor in this matter, but he couldn't help but feel with Richard, and he hoped with all his heart that the English sovereign would be able to defend himself and smash all accusations against him.

The debate went on, and Erik listened very carefully to the things both rulers brought up, filling Richard's goblet with wine every time the older one jerked his head at it. Erik's back and knees hurt from the hours of standing still, but he wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else, and he felt honored and blessed that he had been chosen to serve Richard the Lionheart here on Castle Trifels.

The discussion lasted until it was time for another banquet, and Erik didn't feel his legs any longer, but he took up position behind the king's chair again, seeing to his goblet and his plate always being filled. Richard ignored him except for brief looks and short nods, but each time he did so, there was an approving expression in his dark eyes, and it made Erik happier than it should have.

The young squire felt Robert's and Marian's gaze upon his face now and then, but he focused on the sovereign he was supposed to serve, only, feeling that he belonged to Richard the Lionheart now. This feeling made him proud, and Erik held his head up high and didn't waver, neither sensing his aching limbs nor his exhaustion any longer.

He was the king's personal guard and squire now, and he would prove himself worthy of this post, no matter the cost.

 

***

 

The April proceeded and the emperor's entourage readied themselves to leave Castle Trifels and travel to Hagenau where the next court council would take place. Richard would travel with the emperor to justify and defend himself before the court, and Erik of course, would accompany him there. He hadn't known whether or not he would be allowed to do that, but Richard had insisted that he didn't want having to get used to another servant and apart from that, the Earl of Lindelbron was the head of the king's personal guards and Erik officially still belonged to his household, so he would be a part of the entourage therefore, as well. He just hadn't thought that he would be allowed to serve the English sovereign during his stay in Hagenau, and he was happy and relieved when Richard told him that he expected him to stay close to him and protect him from the meaningless chattering of the other noblemen.

“How am I supposed to do that, sire? It's not upon me to tell them what they shall do and what they can't do!” Erik dared to object, gazing at the older man pacing up and down in his private living room like a trapped lion with a dropped jaw. Richard pursed his lips in annoyance. “That's nonsense, Erik. You outrank most of them by being the son of a baron and belonging to my official guards, anyway. Being my squire and personal guard and therefore being the one carrying out my direct orders confirms that, as well, except for when it comes to the emperor and his ministers themselves, of course, and your earl as your direct military superior. But, Robert admittedly is a pleasant company, he at least knows when to keep his mouth closed and doesn't think that speaking without actually having to say anything important would be a courtesy.”

Erik blushed – again. “He is not my earl,” he objected before he could hold himself back, biting his lip when he realized what he had just done. Richard didn't seem to mind his words, though, he cocked his head to the side in a musing way, regarding Erik for a while. “He's not? I had gotten the impression that you're pretty fond of him.”

More heat crawled into Erik's cheeks, and he swallowed, trying to find a way to distract the king from this topic and keep Marian's secret. “I am. He is a strict but kind master, and he taught me, a lot, without punishing me for every mistake I have made,” he replied, hoping that Richard would be content with that.

“Hm, I see. Your fellow Marian, the son of the Baron of Lewenberc, will be relieved about that, I guess.” Richard had stopped his restless pacing and folded his arms over his chest, his eyes challenging Erik to react to his remark.

“Uhm, I'm not sure what you mean with that, your majesty,” Erik sought refuge in pretending that he didn't know what the king was referring to, earning an angry snort with that. “Don't play the dumbfounded, young knave!” Richard snarled, clearly not amused. “You know quite well what I mean. Don't worry, I don't belong to those condemning such feelings as deadly sins. Besides, it's none of my business, anyway.”

Erik hung his head because he had finally managed to annoy the king, but Richard surprised him as he suddenly stepped closer, laying his fingers under his chin to make him look in his eyes. “Your attempt to protect your friend and your superior honors you, Erik, but there is no need to do so, believe me. I think I'm just tired of sitting around here. The rain is slowly getting on my nerves,” Richard admitted and this made Erik frown with confusion. “Oh, I see. But, I thought that it would rain in England all of the time? You should be used to rain, shouldn't you, sire?”

The king chuckled with true amusement. “Who told you that? The sun is shining even on England now and then.” His face became serious, and his expression could only be called wistfully. “It has been far too long since I've last been there. My country and my people need me, and the English rain is much softer than the rain in Germany, believe me.”

Erik swallowed as he realized with astonishment that the English sovereign trusted him enough to admit his homesickness to him. “I would love to visit your country one day, sire!” he said without thinking, and Richard smiled at him with genuine warmth. “Maybe, this can be arranged some day, Erik of Thanstein. Tell me, are you homesick? I know that your home isn't so far away from here, but you have spent the last year in Castle Lindelbron and you most likely haven't had the time to visit your parents and your home, have you?”

Erik nodded, and it proved to be tricky because Richard's finger still enclosed his chin. The king frowned when he noticed that, pulling his hand away with an irritated expression on his face for the tiniest moment, and Erik felt as if he had lost something precious all of a sudden, which was ridiculous, of course.

He cleared his throat from the dryness he felt and drew in a shaky breath. “Yes, I feel homesick oftentimes,” he said, thoughtfully. “Castle Trifels and Castle Lindelbron are much bigger and much more magnificent, but Castle Thanstein is my home, and I miss it and my family, especially my sister Lisa. She is married to Marian's older brother Fabian, and I don't see her often nowadays. We have always been very close.”

The king touched briefly his shoulder before he turned around to observe the thick, gray clouds hanging deep over the high tower they could see from the window. “That's one of the things that come with adulthood. You are close to your siblings as long as you are children, but that changes while all of you grow up, and when you're finally mature, they have become strangers to you and maybe even your worst rivals.”

Richard was apparently referring to his own younger brother John with that, and Erik didn't know what to say to that. He had heard the rumors about John conspiring with Philipp II., king of France to gain the sovereignty of England, and Erik couldn't even imagine how Richard must feel about his brother's betrayal.

Silence stretched between them, but it was more thoughtful and melancholic than uncomfortable, and Erik decided that a walk outside would most likely be what would lift Richard's mood, regardless that it was still raining. “I don't want to be impudent, but maybe you would like to take a walk in the rose garden? Our German rain might not be as soft as the English rain, but it freshens the air and I could hold up a cover to protect you,” he suggested, amazed about his own courage.

The king turned his head to just look at him for one long moment, and the young squire was sure that the older one would turn down his proposal but then, Richard smiled, and the smile reached his eyes this time. “Why not? Even though I should be the one holding up the cover, I am taller than you.”

Erik opened and closed his mouth again, stunned into shocked silence by the thought of the sovereign of England holding up a cover to protect his servant from the rain. “I am not that smaller than you are, sire!” was all he could stammer, and Richard chuckled and raised a calming hand. “I was only joking, young knave. But, a coat with a hood will do just as fine. Just bring me the dark-green one, Erik. A walk in the rose garden is actually a good idea.”

Erik found himself beaming at the king. “I shall hurry, sire,” he promised, heading to the heavy, wooden chest where Richard kept most of his clothes. He might not be able to give Richard his freedom back, but he could at least distract him from his homesickness and his worries and be his silent and confidential ear that listened to him without judging or spreading out more rumors than already existed.

The journey to Hagenau would take two or three days, and they had to prepare everything for their departure, but a walk was what the royal hostage needed right now, and Erik was willing to stay up all night to see to packing their belongings if necessary if only Richard lost the aura of melancholy surrounding him since his first negotiations with Heinrich VI.

Soon, they were on their way to the rose garden, followed silently and with a short distance by the two guards Robert had chosen to accompany them whenever the king left his rooms.

Erik was sure that Richard would use the court council to make his position clear and defend himself; and he was torn between his wish that the fascinating man he had grown fond of that quickly would regain his freedom as fast as possible so he could return to his country and be the caring ruler his people needed him to be, and his longing that Richard would stay longer on Castle Trifels so he could get to know him better.

But, it was not upon him to decide that, and he would simply do what he was able and also allowed to do, serving Richard the Lionheart as best as only possible and making his stay on Castle Trifels as bearable as it could be, considering the circumstances of the king's imprisonment.

Erik was young and still innocent and naive enough to be euphoric and full of ideals, and he didn't expect anything in return except for one of Richard's rare genuine smiles and praises now and then.  
His own smile as he led the king through the hallways and corridors was bright and cheerful, and even the dark clouds and the rain couldn't change his mood.

He listened to the king's stories about England and his childhood, and when Richard asked him to return the favor, he told some funny stories about his own childhood, as well, the older man's laughter being the only reward he craved for.

The day might be clouded and rainy, but Erik's mood and his heart were light and happy, and the young squire was sure that this wouldn't change anytime soon, because as long as he was allowed to see to Richard's well-being, Erik had everything he wanted and even more.

 

_The view on Castle Trifels and his inner walls:_

  



	4. May 1193: A delicate Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spring has come to Castle Trifels and Richard the Lionheart is in a bad mood after the court council in Hagenau. Maybe, Robert of Lindelbron can lift up his mood with a special offer?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Arrested, I have so much fun with this story, I hope you will have as much fun reading it. I wanted to keep this chapter shorter, but I had the talks between Robert and Richard and Erik and Marian clear in my mind and simply had to write them down. Therefore, this story will have more chapters, maybe fourteen or fifteen. :-)

The court council hadn't gone well for Richard, and the king of England and now hostage of the emperor Heinrich VI. was in a bad mood ever since they had returned to Castle Trifels. He had defended himself thoroughly and with great skills against all accusations the younger ruler had brought up against him, and Richard had hoped that the Holy Father would come to the help of one of his bravest crusaders and force Heinrich into an ultimatum.

But as things stood, his own unworthy brother John Lackland conspired with the Philipp II. the king of France, promising Heinrich to pay the ransom money if the emperor would keep Richard as his hostage for longer. The young emperor of the Holy Roman Empire wanted Richard to pay hundred thousand silver Mark and swear the oath of allegiance to him, and Richard was reasonable enough to know that he would most likely have no other chance doing both in the end.

There would be another court council in June in the city of Worms, and Richard would have to agree to Heinrich's claims and demands if he wanted to ever regain his freedom some day. The emperor hadn't come back with him to the Trifels, and Richard was actually glad about that. He respected Heinrich as the emperor of a great empire, but that didn't mean that he had to like him, and he was grateful for having some time to think about what he should say and do on the next court council, undisturbed and without too much pressure.

Spring had finally come to Castle Trifels a couple of days ago, letting the flowers bloom everywhere and the golden sun warm the thick and cold walls of the proud imperial castle, but Richard couldn't really enjoy the beauty surrounding him, his worries about the well-being of his own people under the rule of his younger brother pressing down on him, heavily.

The only thing or better the only one pulling an honest smile from him now and then was his personal guard Erik, the son of the Baron of Thanstein. The young man with the handsome, boyish features and the beautiful hazel-green eyes had accompanied him to Hagenau, and he had actually been the only one making his stay there bearable. Erik was always there for him without ever being impudent or nosy, withdrawing in the farthest corner of the room and staying silent whenever Richard needed some time 'alone' without him having to ask for it. Robert's second squire seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to Richard's wishes and needs, and he did more than his best to fulfill them as unceremoniously as possible. He was there to listen to him, never judging, and he knew when to keep his mouth shut and when to speak and distract the imprisoned king from his worries with a funny story about his childhood or his first year on Castle Lindelbron. Richard had asked Erik to be his personal guard only out of an impromptu mood but now, he was more than glad that he had done it.

The English sovereign hadn't told Erik that so far, but the young squire was the only one keeping him from going crazy in his luxury prison, and Richard felt deep gratitude towards him. Maybe, the gratitude was mixed with something else, even deeper and surely much more inappropriate, and the king wasn't surprised when Robert, the Earl of Lindelbron knocked on the door to his private living room on one sunny morning to ask for an audience, knowing that the dark-haired knight was very attentive and must have sensed the closeness between his second squire and the emperor's royal prisoner.

Not that the dark-haired knight would have needed to ask him, Richard might be the king of England, but he was the emperor's hostage and Robert the head of his guards and therefore outranked him, but the older man appreciated the earl's politeness and agreed to a talk under four eyes without objection.

Erik, who had let his superior in, stood by the door, chewing on his lip and trying to melt with the shadow between the door frame and Richard's huge chest, obviously hoping that his superior would forget his existence if he became almost invisible.

His hope was in vain, of course, because the Earl of Lindelbron wasn't a man to forget that there were still three pairs of eyes in the room instead of only two, and he turned around to his underling and smiled at the younger man. His voice was friendly, but the steel-hard undertone left no doubt about his words being an order Erik would have to follow without any delay or protest.

“Erik, leave us alone, please. Marian is waiting for you for another practice with the sword.”

The young squire with the light brown hair hesitated, his eyes darting to Richard, and the English sovereign could read the question in them, easily. He was amazed and even touched that the son of the Baron of Thanstein was actually willing to disobey his superior's order and risk his position and state with that for Richard's sake, and his amazement turned into warmth and something akin to almost happiness.

Richard assured him with the tiniest of a head's nod, and Erik swallowed and gazed at the dark-haired earl again. “Of course, my lord, as you wish,” he said, not bothering to keep his reluctance out of his voice. The Earl of Lindelbron was self-confident and experienced enough to not gift his underling's hesitation with more attention than it deserved, and he only held Erik's gaze, silently but strictly, until the young man eventually turned around and left the chamber, closing the door behind him.

Richard stared aimlessly at the dark wood of the closed door for one moment, surprised about how much he already missed the quiet shadow Erik as his personal guard had become to him before he looked at the earl again with attentive eyes. He had to admit that he was curious and looking forward to cross his blade with the emperor's brave knight once more, at least the blades of their sharp words. Robert of Lindelbron was always a worthy adversary when it came to such banters, and Richard enjoyed their discussions and debates almost as much as he enjoyed Erik's company.

“You have something to tell me, Robert of Lindelbron?” he eventually asked after they had appraised each other for a couple of seconds, and the good-looking soldier with the piercing blue eyes nodded his head in a brief but respectful bow.

“Yes, sire. Actually more something to ask you,” he replied, and Richard let out an exasperated sigh. It wasn't as if he truly minded this talk, but he wouldn't make it too easy for the emperor's knight, either.

“Fair enough, let's sit down, then. I assume that this talk will take a while.” Richard went to the table in the middle of his living room and sat down in his usual chair, gesturing vaguely with his hand at the carafe and the goblets. “You've sent my personal squire away, so you'll have to serve yourself, I'm afraid,” he stated, enjoying the slight blush that colored the well-shaved, prominent cheek-bones of his guest.

“Thank you, sire, but I am not thirsty.” Robert sat down opposite him, his gaze traveling over the king's face. “I couldn't help but notice that you seem to be rather tensed lately, sire. The emperor told me to see to each of your needs and wishes except your freedom, of course, so I want to ask you if there is anything you need I could provide you with.”

Richard had to give him credit for holding his gaze by this offer, and even Robert's blush didn't increase, so it took the English sovereign a couple of seconds until he realized the true nature of Robert's offer. He stared back at him and only his own experience and self-control kept him from blushing himself. When he finally spoke up again, his voice was as controlled as his face, and Richard pursed his lips and tilted his head to the side in a challenging way.

“I see. It's understandable that you didn't want your young charge to be a witness of this talk.” Richard leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over his flat abdomen.

“Erik takes his duties and responsibilities very seriously, your majesty. I also couldn't help but notice that he has grown very fond of you, and I don't want him to get hurt.” Robert didn't waver, and Richard could only admire him for his courage. He had met only few people in his life who had dared talking to him this way. Robert's words had been a clear warning, and Richard wasn't the man to bear a grudge against tough men protecting those they cared about, no matter whether they were aristocrats or belonged to the lower classes.

“I have no intention to hurt Erik,” he said, and Robert nodded his head. “Not on purpose, sire, I'm sure about that. But, you could hurt him unintentionally, and this talk would definitely hurt him.”

The English sovereign frowned. “I'm not sure what you're referring to, Robert of Lindelbron, but your young knave and I haven't come as close as you obviously suspect we did. Besides, I'm surprised that you noticed my so-called tension, because I couldn't help but notice how close you and your first squire Marian have become,” Richard shot back, suppressing a contented snarl when the redness crept back into the younger man's cheeks.

“I know that you haven't come that close, sire. I apologize if I gave you the impression that I suspected anything else than Erik being only your personal guard and squire, that was not my intention. It's only that I have come to care about him like I would care about a younger brother, and I can see how much he admires you. I don't want him to be a witness of me offering you the services of this kind – which I'm doing because the emperor gave me explicit order to see to _each_ of your possible needs, sire. I didn't think that you would come to me with such a wish yourself, so I had to be the one bringing up this delicate topic without more ears listening to us than necessary.”

Richard had relaxed a little bit by Robert's words, and he could see that Robert had been honest about that. It was clear to see that he hated this talk as much as Richard did, even though he kept his features and his voice under control with astonishing skills.

“Hm, Heinrich VI. seems to truly care about my well-being,” he mused, and Robert actually had to bite his lip to not smile at the obvious mockery in Richard's dry statement. “Very well,” the king then continued, “just in case I would crave for this kind of - hm entertainment - you mentioned, whom would you suggest to help me out with that?”

The Earl of Lindelbron didn't flinch. “I can assure you that there will be more than enough willing maids offering you such services – and if they won't be to your liking, I am positive that I will find someone else being willing and suiting your – hm - taste much better, as well.”

Richard felt tired and furious all of a sudden. He wasn't angry at Robert because he knew that the young earl only did what he had been ordered to do, and he could see that the head of his guard hated this talk as much as he did. “Yes, I am sure there are more than enough. Most likely even a lot of young ladies of blue-blooded origin who will be excited about the opportunity of presenting their with a royal bastard swollen bellies to their possible future husbands. No young noblemen would say anything against raising the child of a king as their own one, at least most of them wouldn't mind that.”

The heat coloring the face of the Earl of Lindelbron seemed to be more the heat of anger than one of embarrassment and shame, but his voice was gentle and understanding when he said: “Unfortunately, you're right with that, sire. But, there would be ways to avoid something like this.”

Richard stood up and started to pace forth and back in the splendid chamber that felt much more like a prison than a real dungeon would have felt to him at the moment. Robert rose to his feet, as well, not risking the impudence of staying seated while the king wasn't sitting any longer.

“Yes, I know enough about this topic to be sure that you would find a skilled midwife taking care of such a 'problem'. But to me, this thought is even worse than the one of the maid keeping my child.” Richard rubbed his forehead and stopped before the window to take a look outside. “I know that you had to have this talk with me but, I can assure you that I am not in the need of any of such services you mentioned. If I will become that desperate to actually think about it, I will let you know.”

“I see. As you wish, your majesty. Is there anything else I can do for you?” Robert's question was honest and interested, and a small smile curled around his lips when a sudden idea crossed the king's mind. He turned around to the dark-haired earl, crossing his arms before his chest.

“Yes, there is something you can do for me, Robert of Lindelbron, and I am convinced that you will like it much better. You want to lift my mood? Very well, there is actually something that would revive my spirits, and it is much more appropriate than what you have offered to me in the first place!”

 

***

 

Erik left Richard's rooms with a bad feeling in his stomach, sensing that he wouldn't like the things his superior wanted to talk about with the English sovereign in private. The young nobleman was angry about how the court council in Hagenau had turned out to be, his loyalty belonging to the impressive Englishman only when it came to that. He had been allowed to stay by Richard's side during the whole procedure, and his heart had ached when he had listened to the false accusations and to the things Heinrich VI. had thrown in Richard's face. To make it even worse, the ugly French ruler, Philipp II. had offered to pay the money Heinrich wanted to get demanding that Richard would stay imprisoned for much longer, then.

As much as Erik had come to enjoy Richard's company, his feelings for the older man becoming stronger and stronger with every day that passed, but the young man wasn't selfish enough to wish that his admired and adored king would stay Heinrich's hostage. He'd rather miss Richard the Lionheart, deeply, than watching his spirits and joy of living slowly but unstoppable fade away. His own people needed him, and Erik wanted Richard the Lionheart to be free and happy.

The brown-haired squire murmured his greetings to the Robert's men standing on guard duty in the corridor leading to Richard's quarters as he made his way to the large back yard where the soldiers practiced their training, still musing about what Robert might want to talk about.

The bright sun hurt in his eyes when he exited the pallas, and he stopped and waited until he could see clearly again.

“Ah, Erik! I thought you wouldn't come!” Marian greeted him in a cheerful voice, and Erik smiled when he saw his friend sitting on the small stone wall enclosing the yard, waiting for him. There were two knights fighting with wooden swords against each other, and Erik carefully circled them to cross the yard and sit down beside the shorter knave.

“Our lord ordered me to practice my skills and as Richard's personal guard, I should be capable of defending him properly,” Erik remarked with a shrug of his shoulders, following the fluent and fast movements of the two young knights with his eyes. He knew that his skills weren't as good as theirs, and he hoped to learn something from watching them. Robert usually chose only the best fighters, and the twins Lars and Sven were no exception from this rule. Erik got the impression that they were almost dancing over the dusty ground of the yard as they circled each other, and their wooden swords made whooshing sounds when the young fighters swirled them through the air.

“And this is the only reason you have, of course, Robert's order,” Marian mocked him, but his smile was warm and understanding. Erik blushed and answered with an annoyed “hrmpf!”, avoiding to meet his friend's gaze. Marian's hand on his arm assured him that the other squire hadn't wanted to hurt him, and Erik sighed and turned his head to look at him.

“You really like him, don't you, Erik?” Marian asked him, quietly, and Erik sighed again. “Is it that obvious?” he murmured, and Marian shook his head. “No, not to everyone, Erik. But, I know you much better than most of the other people here, and yes, I can see it in your eyes every time you look at him. It's fine, though, I can understand you. Richard is different from what I thought he would be like.”

“Thank you, Marian. And yes, I like him. But that's not the only reason. He is unhappy and sad ever since we came back from Hagenau, and I can't blame him. I would feel the same way after all that happened to him. He is homesick and worried about his people and his country, and he didn't do what Heinrich accused him of.” Erik knew that he sounded unhappy himself, and he hung his head and fiddled with the laces of his doublet.

“Hm, some of the things he is accused of are true, you know that, Erik, don't you?” Marian didn't sound reproachful, he was merely stating a fact.

“Yes, but he did what every other sovereign would have done if they had been in his shoes, as well,” Erik couldn't help but defend the king of England, and Marian nodded, thoughtfully. “You're probably right with that, but you shouldn't say that out loud and be much more careful.”

Erik eyed him from the side. “What about you? You look happy,” he drawled, pulling a gasp from the other brunet who colored in a deep red. “Uhm, Robert is a very skil... hm k-kind lov... master,” he stammered, and Erik blinked, surprised that things had already gotten that far. He had been so busied with his duties that he hadn't really payed close attention to the delicate flower blooming between Marian and the Earl of Lindelbron, something he regretted now. A little teasing wouldn't do any harm, though, and Erik grinned at him with a wink of his eye.

“As skilled as he is with his sword and his mouth?” he inquired rather ambiguously, and Marian's face were almost burning now. “Erik!!” his friend hissed through gritted teeth, desperately, and Erik chuckled, distracted from his own worries and heavy thoughts.

“What?” he gave back, his expression as innocent as his voice. “Our lord is very skilled with his sword, I can tell that for sure. My arm is still sore from our last practice. Not to mention that Robert is one of the best diplomats I have met so far. His skills when it comes to discussions and debates are truly astonishing. What did you think I was talking about when I mentioned his sword and his mouth?”

Marian had just sipped from his waterskin, the liquid taking the wrong pipe by Erik's words, of course, causing his friend to start coughing, violently. Erik patted his back until he could breathe again, and when Marian had wiped his eyes and inhaled, shakily, he scowled at him. “I will pay you back for this, don't you doubt that, Erik!” he snarled, but without much emphasis.

Erik chuckled before he became serious again. “Is he good to you, Marian?” he asked, and Marian's happy face gave him the answer to that question. “Yes, he is, Erik. I love him,” the other squire whispered, and Erik wrapped his arm around him for a friendly hug. “Then, I am happy for you two, as well.”

For a while, they sat there, watching the blond twins fighting with their swords before Erik had found the courage to ask the question bothering him that much. “Do you know what Robert wanted to talk about with the king? Is Richard in danger?”

Marian bit his lip and glided to the side, unable to meet Erik's eyes. “What! Come on, tell me! I need to know if there is something wrong, Marian!” Erik's heart started to beat faster, and Marian hastily shook his head. “No, nothing's wrong, Erik. Richard is as safe here as he only can be. And no, Robert hasn't talked to me beforehand about the king, but I heard him talking to the housekeeper of the castle. I think he wants to make sure that Richard will have some nice company in case he feels lonely and will need some comfort.”

Erik frowned, and the sharp sting of hurt shooting through his stomach made him fold his arms before it. “But, he has me! He isn't lonely!” he objected, and Marian rolled his eyes at Erik's obvious stupidity. “Of course, the king has you to talk to if he's feeling depressed. I wasn't talking about a fellow's company, more about a warm and soft body – if you know what I mean – a pretty young maid...” his voice trailed off, and Erik felt ice-cold despite the warm sun shining down on him all of a sudden.

“I see,” he whispered. “Of course, how stupid of me to not think of that.” He swallowed as he rose to his feet on shaky legs, the bright spring day having become dark and gray to him after Marian's revelation. “Come on, we have to practice with the sword!” he said, hoarsely, and Marian followed his example and stood up, as well. “I'm sorry, Erik,” he tried, but the taller brunet shook his head with a grim expression on his face. “No need to be sorry, you've only spoken the truth and I have to thank you for that.”

He took the wooden sword Lars handed him with a brief smile and took up position, waiting for Marian to get ready for their training with a straight back but aching heart in his chest.

 _'You are only his personal guard and servant, nothing more, nothing less,'_ Erik told himself, but it didn't console him, and his vision was blurred when he attacked Marian, blindly and with all the fury and despair he felt. Marian fought back, carefully to not hurt him, and Erik lost himself in their fight, hoping that his anger and feeling of betrayal would have faded after their practice. He had allowed himself to dream of something he could never have but now, he was back to reality, and Erik swore to himself that he would never forget again who he was: the unimportant son of the Baron of Thanstein, a squire and personal guard, and surely not the one Richard the Lionheart dreamed of in his sleep.

 

***

 

Richard wasn't in his quarters when Erik entered them later on, tired and exhausted from his training fight and worried and depressed because of what Marian had told him. He had hoped that the king would be there and dispel his fears and when he couldn't find him, the realization that his friend had apparently spoken the truth made him stumble and stifle a sob.

The young squire slowly made his way to the place where he had left Richard's boots beside the chimney the previous day, sitting down to polish them. Perhaps, it would be his last opportunity to do that for the English sovereign, and Erik was determined to bring everything into order before he would go back to his duties as Robert of Lindelbron's second squire. The wet drop leaving a dark spot on the brown leather caught him by surprise and he angrily wiped his face but soon, the first drop was joined by others and then, Erik couldn't keep his sobs inside any longer. He cried silently while he scrubbed the dirt and the dust off he king's boots, his heart aching and his mind circling around the images of Richard lying in the arms of a willing maid in an unstoppable and endless loop.

Erik was still polishing the now shining and sparkling leather a long time after his crying had stopped, the steady strokes of his hand calming him down until he felt numb and emotionless and his only striving was to make sure that his king's shoes would be the cleanest and most sparkling shoes in the entire castle.

 

***

 

Richard was finally in a rather good mood again when he entered his private living room after the three hours he had spent in surprisingly pleasant company, and he found himself looking forward to telling his young knave about his success.

The chamber was quiet when he entered it, quiet, rather dark and cold, and Richard frowned in disappointment, not because he had expected Erik having lit up the fire in the chimney like a normal servant was supposed to do, but because he wouldn't be able to tell him the good news if the young man he had come to care about wasn't there to listen to him.

The silent noise coming from the other side of the chimney proved to him that someone yet had to be in his room, and when he stepped closer, he frowned again, this time in dismay when he stared down at Erik's slumped figure crouching beside the fireplace.

Erik was polishing his already clean and sparkling boots like being in some kind of trance, and Richard bent down to cautiously touch his shoulder. “Erik? What are you doing here?”

The young man gasped and flinched, violently, stumbling backwards and hitting his head at the sharp corner of the chimney as he tried to get away from his possible attacker. Richard realized that Erik must have been deeper lost in his thoughts than he had thought, and the English monarch reached out and pulled him up and away from the fireplace until they were almost embracing each other.

“Erik, don't fret, it's only me,” he said, soothingly, and Erik stared at him with big eyes, two dark-red spots forming on the cheeks of his otherwise pale face.

“Your majesty! I – I'm sorry, I didn't hear you coming!” Erik stammered, and Richard smiled at that. “Yes, I noticed. I didn't mean to startle you. What about your head? Is everything alright with you?”

Erik blinked and lifted his hand to the back of his head where he had hit the rough stone. “Yes, I'm fine, sire,” he hastened to say, but he refused to meet Richard's eyes and the king laid his hand under his chin to make him look at him.

The former wet and now dried traces on his face and the redness of his eyes were a clear evidence that nothing was alright, and Richard felt anger rising in his gut by the thought of someone – anyone - hurting his young knave.

“Have you cried, Erik?” he asked, gently, and the son of the Baron of Thanstein bit his lip and swallowed, audibly.

“It's nothing, sire. I was only worried about you. My lord wanted to talk to you, privately, and when I came back to your rooms and you weren't there, I thought that something might have happened to you or that you might have changed your mind, not wanting me to serve you any longer...” Erik went silent, looking utterly miserably. “I'm sorry for my impudence, your majesty, I should better go before I'll say more silly things.”

“Stop that, Erik! Nothing of what you have said is silly or stupid. I am touched that you have been worried about me, and you're probably the only one caring about my well-being that much.” Richard didn't let go of Erik's chin and the young man swallowed again. “You are not angry with me, sire?” he asked, hesitantly, and Richard felt the strong urge to pull him close and rock him until the sad look in his eyes would fade again.

“Of course, not, young knave,” the older man assured his personal guard and squire, watching him, attentively. “Is this the only thing that troubles you, Erik? That I could send you away, I mean?”

Erik nodded, but his blush deepened. “Yes, this and that I was worried that you could be in – danger...”

Richard got the impression that Erik was hiding something from him, but he decided to not push the issue. The young man was clearly upset and obviously didn't feel well, and the king wanted to console him and see him happy and well again.

“I am sorry, I should have left a note for you, Erik, you are right. I didn't think about that because of your earl's offer,” he raised his left hand when Erik wanted to object, “he is your superior and therefore 'your' earl, young knave, nothing less, nothing more. I will think of leaving you a note in the future in case that something like this will happen again, Erik. But now, let me tell you what Robert agreed to to lift my mood and revive my spirits again.”

Erik's jaw dropped and he gulped for air, instinctively stepping back from Richard, his expression cautious and a little bit mistrustful but he nodded his head and straightened his shoulders. “I am curious, sire,” he said even though he sounded more scared than actually curious.

Richard smiled at him, glad that he could eventually tell Erik the good news. “You better be, young knave. Your earl agreed to organize a tournament, and you will be one of the participants. It is finally time for your first tournament, Erik of Thanstein!”

_One of the still intact parts of Castle Trifels:_

  



	5. May 1193: A wonderful start in the Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marian and Robert enjoy a passionate start in the morning on the day of the tournament.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Arrested, you need something to cheer you up and I hope that this chapter will accomplish this mission. No cliffhanger - I was nice ;-D - and a lot of Robert and Marian just like you requested. :-)) I also added some pictures again, the one under this chapter shows the impressive ruins of Robert's castle Lindelbron, I also added a picture to chapter 3, I simply forgot it yesterday.  
> Enjoy reading Marian's and Robert's start in the morning and if you like this couple and the Middle Ages as much as I do, maybe, the story 'The Oath' would be something you like, as well. It is about them in a different (darker) setting and can be read without having read the other parts of the Trifels-series beforehand because it is actually the first part in the timeline.

The day of the tournament dawned brightly, the orange-red ball of the May sun rising over the horizon in all its shining beauty. Marian stood on the small balcony that belonged to Robert's living room, lifting his chin up with closed eyes to let the first golden rays warm his face and enjoy the peaceful atmosphere of the early morning. The last days had been straining, and Marian had had only little time to rest, being busied with the preparations and the practices for the tournament from dawn to dusk.

It would be only a small tournament, the king of England had discussed the whole thing more than once with Robert, telling him exactly what he wanted. He hadn't allowed the Earl of Lindelbron to invite more guests than only the few families from the most important castles nearby, which would be the castles Falkenstein, Wilenstein, Spangenberg and Weglnburg, and Richard the Lionheart had insisted of the young squires being participants of that tournament, as well. Marian had hardly believed his ears when Robert had told him that, and he felt giddy and pretty nervous, but also happy and proud that he would get the chance to show his skills and freshly learned abilities.

His friend Erik was quite a mess for almost two weeks by now, unable to talk about anything other than the tournament and his adored king of England. It wasn't as if Marian couldn't understand him, and he listened patiently to his rambling and his whining about surely making a fool of himself, grateful that his taller friend seemed to have gotten over his shock and his heartache about Robert's offer to Richard to provide him with willing maids to warm his bed now and then.

Marian didn't know whether or not the king had accepted this offer, after all, he couldn't ask Robert about it, because he would have to admit that he had listened to his talk with the castellan of Castle Trifels, then. The young squire hadn't wanted to spy on his master and the housekeeper, he only hadn't had the chance to get out of his corner without Robert and Sir Walter noticing him. He couldn't ask Erik about it, not wanting to rip the barely healed wound open again, and Erik's behavior over the last days hadn't really enlightened him when it came to this delicate topic, either.

Two strong-muscled and slightly tanned arms wrapping themselves around him from behind pulled him out of his musings, and he leaned back against the slim frame of the older man. The stony balustrade was high enough to hide them from the spying eyes of the servants already working in the great courtyard where the tournament would take place, and Marian didn't object when the Earl of Lindelbron stepped back into the shadow of the balcony's corner, pulling his first squire with him.

“Good morning, Marian,” the earl's voice purred right next to his sensitive ear, still husky from sleep. Marian suppressed a moan to not attract unwanted attention, but the slight shiver running over his spine gave him away, and Robert's pleased, silent chuckle tickled at his throat and sent another shiver along his back right after the first one. “I missed your warmth when I woke up alone in our bed. The furs will never warm me like you do,” the dark-haired lord continued, and Marian's lips curled into a happy smile.

He still couldn't believe that Robert returned his feelings, and he was pretty sure that he would never get used to the feeling of Robert holding him in his arms like he did now. Or to the kisses they shared when they made love to each other. This thought let his blood rush down south, and Marian's morning erection grew back to full length. The young squire had been able to ignore it until Robert had stepped behind him, but when his skilled lover now slipped his warm hand into his trousers, cupping his cheeky manhood, Marian knew that he was lost.

He was young and full of life and energy and, most of all, he was deeply and crazy in love, and Robert's firm and experienced touch did nothing to calm him down, either. Marian was glad that the balustrade of the balcony was hiding what Robert was doing to him, because the older man started to stroke up and down on his leaking length now, and the world started spinning around the younger one.

“Hm, guess you missed me, too?” Robert sighed against his damp skin, and this time Marian couldn't keep the ardent moan fleeing his lips inside anymore. “The sun was so beautifully rising, and I couldn't sleep any longer, I'm so nervous because of this tournament...” he stammered, his eyes falling shut by the sensation of Robert's calloused palm kneading his rock-hard member with the same skills he wielded his sword with.

“I see. I will forgive you for having deprived me of your warm body this time, then,” Robert murmured, his tongue licking up the drops of sweat forming on Marian's throat his caresses pulled from the shivering prey trapped in his arms. “How about we move this back to the bed, nevertheless? Beds can be used for a lot of things, not only for sleeping...”

This time, Marian's moan sounded almost like a mewl, and Marian would have felt embarrassed by the needy sound, but he was far too aroused to really care about it. Yet, he tried to be the earl's good first squire and stay reasonable. “I think that I should see to my duties, my lord,” he gasped out, even though his aching cock was screaming for release.

The annoyed growl and the rather harsh bite into his earlobe startled him. “Don't call me lord when we're together like this, Marian! I'm Robert for you only when we're alone.” The older man pulled his hand out of Marian's linen trousers he used as bedclothes and turned him around in his arms to kiss him, passionately and tenderly at the same time. Marian opened his lips to let the man he loved and admired so much claim the soft cavern behind them, their tongues dancing the old courting dance every couple in love knew by heart for centuries and even millennia. The son of the Baron of Lewenberc lost all tracks of time as they kissed, and he simply wrapped his arms around Robert's neck when the earl lifted him up on his arms to carry him back inside and straight into his bedroom. He only drew back from Marian's swollen lips to rip his linen shirt from his slender body, pressing him down onto the mattress and covering his lips once more when the undershirt was out of the way.

Robert had joined him on the balcony only wearing his trousers, and both men wriggled and writhed to undress them without having to break their kiss. Marian was still a little bit shy when it came to the pleasures of making love, always fearing that he could do something wrong, but when Robert took his hand to guide it down on his flat abdomen to the part of his body where he craved for his lover's touch, Marian enclosed the proof of his desire for him without hesitation.

“Yes, just like that, my sweet Marian!” Robert moaned ardently against his lips, his fingers searching their way between Marian's quivering butt cheeks. “I need to be inside you, love,” he whispered, and the young brunet spread his legs, eagerly, because it had been too long for his liking since they had last done this. Marian had worked so hard, practicing and training for the tournament at least three times each day, and the previous night, he had been so tired and wrung out that he had fallen asleep the minute his head had touched his pillow.

Robert's finger was warm while the oil he used as a lubricant was still cool, and the mixture of cool wetness and warm skin made Marian shiver with arousal when the cheeky digit slipped into his tight channel, barely meeting any resistance. Marian focused on his breathing and his own task of stroking the gorgeous cock of his lover, and this helped him with staying relaxed and not fighting against the still rather unfamiliar intrusion. They didn't have much time for what they both needed, and Marian didn't want to spend too much time with the necessary preparation. Robert's lips were hot on his face and he whispered words of love and ardor into his ear as he gently pumped his finger in and out, adding a second finger when he was sure that Marian could take it without feeling too much discomfort. Robert's impressive cock throbbed in his fingers, slick with the milky wetness their foreplay had already milked from the dark-haired earl. “You better stop this, or it will be over before we'll come to the actual lovemaking part, love!” Robert's voice was that hoarse that Marian hardly recognized it, and it amazed him that he was the one turning the level-headed and normally controlled knight into such a wanton mess.

“You want me that bad?” he whispered, his own lust rising to new levels because Robert had pushed into him with three fingers now, aiming at the special knob deep inside him that let explode stars before Marian's eyes when caressed. “More than bad, my sweet Marian, can't you feel it?”

“Uhm, I guess so.” Marian stopped the movements of his hand when Robert's manhood twitched in his hand, growing even harder than it already was, and he pulled his head down for another kiss instead. He battled with Robert's tongue for dominance in earnest for a while, fumbling for the vial with the oil to slick his lover up for the forthcoming happenings, thoroughly. He felt so good in his hand, smooth and silk-like warm skin over rock-hard steel, and a sudden giggle bubbled out of him when he remembered his talk with Erik about Robert's mouth and sword.

“Am I so funny, young knave?” Robert snarled, clearly confused about Marian's unexpected mirth. “No, you're not funny, at all, my beloved lord,” the younger one assured him, laying all of his love into his words, "I'm only so happy.”

“You are?” Robert stroked with his thumb over his stubbly cheek, a soft smile lighting up his handsome features. “Yes, I am. More than I can tell you, Robert.” Marian smiled up at the beautiful, male face hovering above him, the deep blue eyes dark with Robert's strong desire for him. He carded with his fingers through the thick, dark hair and the lust on his own face left no doubt that he desired and loved Robert with the same passion as Robert loved and desired him.

“Please, take me, Robert, I need to feel you, I need to be yours!”

He didn't need to say that twice, and when Robert made himself comfortable between his spread legs to enter him, carefully and tenderly, he flung his arms and his legs around him and lifted his hips up to meet his first thrust with unrestrained passion. Robert seemed to reach right into his soul, and Marian's breath hitched in his throat as his feelings threatened to overwhelm him.

The earl stilled his movements for a couple of seconds when he was buried to the hilt deep inside him, simply looking down at Marian who realized in this very special moment that this man was his fate, his everything. He would never love anybody else the way he loved Robert of Lindelbron, and Marian knew for sure that he would even die for him, happily, if this meant to save the man he loved more than life itself.

“I love you, Robert.” He had said these important words to him beforehand, but never with this sincerity and honesty. Robert must have seen the difference in his eyes, because he stroked over his lips and kissed his forehead, and his words were spoken with the same sincerity and honesty when he answered: “I love you, too, Marian. More than anything. More than my own life.”

He didn't give him the chance to say more, though, starting to move and kissing him again. Marian moaned and pushed back, the heat of his unfulfilled desire coursing through his veins like fire and blurring his vision. His cock trapped between their sweat-slick bodies rubbed against Robert's hard abs with every move of their hips, throbbing with need and wet with arousal. Robert had always stroked him while he had made love to him so far, but Marian didn't want to let go of him, holding him tight in the embrace of his arms and legs, and when he raised his own hips a little bit further, he felt Robert hitting this sensitive bundle of nerves inside him with each of his thrusts. It sent shivers of raw and pure pleasure through him with every hit and Marian could feel his orgasm building deep in his belly.

“Don't stop, this is so good, please, don't stop!” he moaned and gasped out, the wet sounds of skin slapping against skin boosting his desire as much as the sight of Robert's face suffused with lust and ecstasy. “Yes, my sweet Marian, show me how much you want me!” The dark-haired earl snarled, and the incredible hardness pushing into him again and again proved to the young squire that his lover was close to his climax as he himself was. Marian's nails scratched over Robert's back, but they both didn't care about Marian perhaps leaving some marks on his body, they could easily be explained with a training lesson in close combat.

Marian threw his head back on the pillow when the first wave of his orgasm made his hips stutter in their moves, shooting through his groin and spurting creamy stripes of ecstasy between their connected bodies. He cried out because the next wave was even stronger and the feeling of hot wetness spilling against his sweet spot pulled the next wave from him, more milky pleasure adding to the mess he had already made.

They clung to each other while they savored their shared ecstasy to the fullest, heavy shudders wrecking both of them until the intensive sensation faded to the soft glow of the aftermath. Robert slumped down on him, still considerate enough to crash him with his weight, and his harsh breathing tickled at Marian's damp throat again, just where his own pulse was racing.

“What a wonderful way to start this day, my lord!” the young squire said when Robert eventually lifted his head up to look at him, pulling a tender smile from him with that. Robert seemed to know why Marian had called him 'my lord', because he didn't tell him off for that like he had done earlier. He was obviously in the same teasing mood as Marian, kissing the tip of his nose and raising one strict eyebrow at him. “I hope that it will give you wings to present yourself at your best at the tournament later on, young knave. I told Richard that you would be capable of defeating each of your possible adversaries!” he told him and Marian gaped at him with big, surprised eyes.

“You did?” he stammered, sounding truly scared, and Robert chuckled and kissed him, tenderly. “No, of course I didn't say it like that, Marian,” the Earl of Lindelbron soothed him, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “But I'm still expecting you to give your very best, love. You and Erik, actually. This tournament is the king's only wish, and it is important to him that Erik and you will be participants and prove to all those arrogant lords and ladies that you are worthy to be a part of the court and sit at the table with all of us during the feast afterwards.”

“We will be allowed to sit at the table during the feast?” Marian could hardly believe his ears, but Robert's face was serious now and he was also sure that his beloved earl would never joke about something like this.

“Yes you are but, you have to prove to the king that his trust in Erik's and your skills hasn't been in vain. I can't cheer you up, openly, but be assured that I will inwardly scream my throat sore to make you win your fights, Marian.”

The second son of the Baron of Lewenberc smiled at his earl with all the love and happiness he felt at the moment, his fingers traveling over his face with rapt devotion.

“That's fine with me, my lord Robert. Me knowing that you love me is all I need, I don't need another proof of your feelings for me. I will always give my very best for you, today and in the future, I promise you that.”

Robert of Lindelbron bent down to kiss his beloved Marian one last time. “I know that you'll do, love. I will never stop loving you with all my heart, I promise you that, too.”

 

_The ruins of Castle Lindelbron on a sunny summer afternoon:_

  



	6. May 1193: The Tournament

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marian and Robert have enjoyed sweet lovemaking after waking up while Erik is nervous because of the tournament. What will happen during this competition and who will be the winner at the end of it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dear Arrested, I had to split this chapter again, because it has already more than 6000 words and I also want to write about the feast after the contest. I'm not such an expert when it comes to the tournamants of the Middle Ages, but I did some research, especially about the armore in the late 12th. century.  
> I hope that this chapter will be readable and enjoyable, I did my very best. Please, be also sure that I will reward you for the 'nice' cliffhanger you've left me with this morning, I will make sure to write some nice cliffhangers for you, too. ;-D  
> This story is somehow getting out of hand and will surely have about 20 chapters, I hope it won't get too boring. I also used some other footballers as role models for my characters, I added them in the tags. 
> 
> My dear readers, I hope you will enjoy this, please let me know if you did. :-)

“You need to eat at least a little bit, Erik.” Richard watched his personal squire pacing around in his private living room like one of those beautiful big cats he had been named after, not sure whether to tell him off or show pity with him because of his obvious nervousness.

Erik who had busied himself with shaking out Richard's red coat – the one with the fur and the color only monarchs were allowed to wear – stopped in his doing to gaze miserably at him. “I can't! I feel more like vomiting than eating!” he whined, and Richard had to admit that the young nobleman was indeed rather pale around his nose. He suppressed the smile that wanted to curl on his lips, remembering quite well how he had felt before his first tournament.

“That's understandable, young knave, but you will need your strength, and you will actually feel better when your stomach is filled, I promise you. If not, I will hold your head in case you'll have to use the chamber pot, personally,” he challenged Erik, and he got the desired effect, instantly, because Erik's softly rounded cheeks started to glow in a wonderful pink as his young knave gaped at him, incredulously. “Your majesty!” was all he could gasp out, the image of his admired king kneeling beside him while he threw up into the chamber pot apparently scaring him. “I would never...” he stammered, his eyes darting forth and back between the bowl filled with porridge on the table and Richard, who had leaned back in his armchair with a smug expression in his eyes.

“Of course, you wouldn't, Erik. You will come to the table now and eat at least half of the porridge, and you will keep it where it belongs just because the mere thought of what would happen if you didn't scares you to death,” Richard said, strictly, and Erik bit his lip and let go of the coat with visible reluctance.

“I'm really not hungry,” he tried, but the king's gaze told him that there wouldn't be any more arguing about that. “You will eat then without being hungry, young knave,” Richard stated, unimpressed, and Erik let out a deep sigh and slowly sat down at the table where he usually sat.

Richard watched him taking the spoon as if it was a living and sizzling snake but at least, he dipped it into the still warm porridge and took a small bite. Richard had suspected that the young squire would feel like this before the tournament, and he had told Robert of Lindelborn rather frankly that he would have breakfast in his private rooms and only in Erik's company, not caring that he offended their noble guests with that. They might have breakfast in the knight's hall, but Richard was determined to make sure that Erik could eat, undisturbed and without being watched, taking full advantage of his privileges as the king of England. He might be Heinrich's hostage, but he was still superior to every other aristocrat here on Castle Trifels, and the Earl of Lindelborn knew when to accept his defeat without objection.

Richard had the suspicion that the young earl inwardly approved his decision, because he cared about Erik like he would have cared about a younger brother, and he probably knew the reason for Richard's behavior and was glad that Erik's well-being meant so much to him.

“I'm full,” Erik pleaded after three spoons, but Richard only raised one royal eyebrow at him. “You are a healthy young man, and you have trained and worked a lot over the last two weeks, you're certainly not full,” he said, and Erik obediently took another bite, his eyes begging the king to show mercy with him. His cheeks had paled again, and his skin shimmered greenish. Richard realized that he had to change tactics if he didn't want to risk the porridge making a soon and sudden reappearance.

“Please, Erik, do it for me. I told Robert that you're ready for your first tournament, and that you would prove to all those arrogant young lords considering themselves better than you and Marian that they are wrong. But, you need to gather some strength to do that, and the porridge will provide you with the needed strength. You don't want me to look like a liar, do you?”

Erik looked at him from underneath his eyelashes for one moment before he picked up the spoon again and started to eat, his expression showing grim determination now. “I won't put you to shame, sire!” he said, and Richard clenched his hands to keep himself from reaching out and stroking his smooth cheek. “I know that you, won't, Erik of Thanstein,” he said, instead, and Erik smiled gratefully at him and started to empty his bowl.

A couple of minutes later, the porridge had found its way into his squire's belly, and they both stood up to get ready for the Mass the abbot of the monastery of Eußerthal would say before the start of the tournament. Erik eyed critically Richard's appearance, smoothing out the royal coat and brushing over his boots one last time, and the king let him do it, knowing that his squire needed to distract himself from the forthcoming things.

When he was about to open the door, Richard laid his hand upon his arm, and Erik turned his head to look at him. “Sire?” They stood close to each other and the sudden rush of emotions surging through him made it hard for Richard to keep his face impassive. “I am not a young lady who can give you a pledge like a small cloth or something like that, Erik, but will you consider this sign as my pledge for you?”

The English sovereign lifted his hand to Erik's face, gently touching his forehead as he made the sign of the cross. “I have faith in you and I know that you will give your best for me, Erik of Thanstein,” he said, his voice slightly rough with his suppressed emotions. “But, no matter who the winner will be today, for me, it will be you.”

 

***

 

Erik could still feel Richard's warm fingers on his skin two hours later when the tournament finally started. They had attended the Mass together, Richard, Robert and the participants of the tournament seated on chairs in the rather small chapel, while the other guests had had to listen to the abbot's words sitting in the large hall outside the chapel, and the only thing he had been able to think of was that Richard the Lionheart had gifted him with his pledge. For Erik, it didn't matter that it wasn't anything visible or something he could carry in his pocket, for him, the touch of his hand and the small cross he had made was far more precious than any cloth or jewel could ever have been.

The king of England, the man he adored and admired with all his heart, believed in him, and this was all that mattered to Erik. He might be only a young squire, the son of a not so important baron, but he had his pride and he would give more than his best for Richard, proving himself worthy his trust.

Marian was already waiting for him in the tent they would share during the tournament, his face pale, but his eyes sparkling with excitement and anticipation. They would have to fight against the young lords of the families of Falkenstein, Wilenstein, Spangenberg and Weglnburg, all of them more experienced than Marian and Erik, but this was nothing Erik wanted to think about right now.

Benedict of Wilenstein was the oldest one, an introverted young man with dark-blond hair, and he had been friendly to Erik and Marian so far, at least when they had been alone. This changed when he was together with his friend Mathis, though, one of the participants of this tournament, as well.

Mathis of Falkenstein came right after Benedict, being only a little bit younger, and Erik had watched him flirting with the young maids after his arrival a couple of days ago. Erik had to admit that he was good-looking with his dark curls and his brown eyes, but he seemed to feel superior, apparently expecting to win the tournament against Erik and Marian with ease.

Julian of Weglnburg was only a little bit older than Erik and Marian, and he seemed to be the nicest one, Erik had liked him right from the start. He had handsome features and dark hair, and he loved to joke and smile and didn't treat Erik and Marian as arrogantly as Mathis and even Benedict sometimes did.

Conrad of Spangenberg was the shyest of the four young lords, he hardly spoke and when he did, he stammered, probably the reason why he preferred to stay silent. Erik and Marian had done their best to lure him out of his cocoon, but Mathis' mockery had hindered them from learning more about the fourth of their rivals so far.

“I am sooo nervous and excited!” Marian now said when Erik stepped into the tent, and the taller squire smiled at his best friend. “Ask me! I could hardly keep my breakfast down. I needed to use the latrine three times since then, even though I have drunk only a little bit,” he groaned, and Marian snickered. “Yes, the same here. I can only hope that I won't have to pee during the competitions.”

Erik nodded his head. “We can help each other with the armor,” he then suggested, but a voice coming from the entrance made him turn his head. “The Earl of Lindelborn sent me to serve you as your knave.” Erik considered the young man who stood by the entrance to the tent.

“Your name is Oscar, isn't it?” he asked, friendly, and the younger one's cheeks colored red. “Yes, my lord Erik. I belong to Sir Walter's household, and he agreed to Lord Robert's request.” It was clear to see that the young man was as excited about his new task as he felt nervous about it, and Erik liked him right at first sight.

“There is no need to call me 'Lord Erik', Oscar,” he said, but the boy with the unruly brown hair shook his head. “Oh yes, it is, Lord Erik. I feel honored that I am allowed to serve you and Lord Marian, and I want to do it right,” he objected, and Erik could see how important this was for Oscar.

“Fair enough, Oscar. Can you help us with our armor?” Marian now asked, and their squire for this day nodded his head. “Yes, Lord Marian, I have done this before,” he said, stepping to the frame where the armors were placed upon. Erik had worn his armor only once beforehand, and he wasn't so sure that if he would be able fight properly wearing the heavy hauberk that would restrain his mobility, a lot. As a young squire, he couldn't afford an armor by himself, and he had actually thought that Marian and he himself would have to fight dressed only with their leather cotte and maybe a helmet, but Robert had surprised them by insisting of providing them with the appropriate equipment which even included a shield with the colors and crests of their castles.

It was a difficult undertaking to put on the iron chausses and the hauberks, and Erik started to sweat, immediately, but together with Oscar, they managed, and when the herald blew his cornet to start the spectacle, both of them were ready and stepped out of their tent.

Mathis, Benedict, Julian and Conrad were already waiting, their knaves already used to dress their lords with their armors. Erik was glad that the helmet with the rather large nasal hid most of his face so the watchers wouldn't see his nervousness, and he let his gaze wander around. The invited aristocrats sat on benches placed to both of the long sides of the arena while the English sovereign, the Earl of Lindelborn and Sir Walter were seated under a canopy at the short side of the arena opposite where the tents of the participants were. The younger folk was giggling and chattering while the older ladies and noblemen tried to look distinguished and arrogant, but Erik was sure that they were as excited about this spectacle as their offspring was. Times were rough and to be invited to Castle Trifels to watch a tournament and maybe even get the chance to talk to the famous, royal hostage was something they would get the chance to only once.

Erik couldn't resist to take a closer look at Richard, and his heart sank when he realized that there was a young lady sitting on his left side. Erik was too far away to recognize her, but she was surely a beauty, and Richard now bent to the side to talk to her. Of course, he was a virile man in his best age and had his needs, and no young maid Erik knew would say no to the king of England when he gifted her with his attention.

Erik swallowed hard, not willing to let such thoughts disturb him, and when Oscar brought him his horse and helped him into the saddle, he rode forward with the other participants to bestow honor to Richard I. of England with his head held up high. Marian riding beside him gasped out when they were close enough to recognize the guests being allowed to sit under the canopy next to Richard and Robert, and Erik felt his jaw drop with disbelief and relief when he could finally see the face of the unknown beauty sitting on Richard's left side. She smiled at him, and Erik felt tears of joy well up in his eyes when he smiled back at his beloved sister Lisa.

Neither Richard himself, nor Robert had told him that his sister would get an invitation, and when he risked a look at the king's face, Richard gifted him with a brief but warm smile, apparently pleased with his surprise for Erik. Marian's brother Fabian, Lisa's husband, sat next to Robert, looking totally overwhelmed by the honor of being one of the few king's personal guests.

Erik was pretty sure that a lot of the other ladies and lords would fume with anger about that, Irmintrud, Sir Walter's daughter for example. Erik had seen her dancing attendance to Richard and Robert whenever they came into sight, and she must be out of her mind with anger and disappointment that Erik's sister was allowed to sit beside the king under the canopy while she had to sit on a bench under the bright sun that would ruin her creamy-white skin.

Richard opening his mouth to speak drew Erik's attention back to the impressive ruler, and he straightened his shoulders under the heavy hauberk, listening attentively to the king's words.

“Young knights, today, you will show your skills in this tournament, proving to us that you are true fighters and ready to defend our holy city of Jerusalem in case it should be needed. You might still be young, and even not all of you are true knights so far, but this will change, soon, and I am convinced that those among you who haven't gotten their accolade until now will achieve this honor soon enough, because of your mind's and heart's nobleness.”

The king paused for one moment, and his gaze held Erik's with an intensity that sent shivers along the young man's spine. Erik didn't remember the last time he had been so proud and determined to present himself at his best, and in this moment, he realized that he would do everything for Richard, even protect him with his own life and die without hesitation if necessary. He took a deep breath and looked back without hiding his emotions, and Richard's eyes darkened with something his personal squire couldn't decipher fast enough before it was gone again and the king's attentive glance moved to his companions.

“So let this tournament begin, and may the best win!” Richard clapped his hands, and the crowd followed his example, excitedly. The herald blew into his cornet once more, and Erik found himself riding back to the spot where the competitions would start, his hands sweaty under the iron mittens, but his mind sharp and focused on the next minutes.

The tournament had begun, and Erik of Thanstein would make Richard be proud of him, no matter what.

 

***

 

Richard the Lionheart could say without being arrogant or conceited that he was a great fighter and warrior. He had fought before the walls of the holy city of Jerusalem, and he had stood his ground in the battle more oftentimes than he could count. He had won a lot of tournaments himself when he had been younger, and he had never felt as nervous as most of his opponents had felt.

But now, as he watched his young knave riding through the course that had been set up, he could hardly keep himself from shifting his weight from one butt cheek to the other. He knew that Erik had trained hard for this event, Richard had been the one teaching him several times, personally, but he also knew quite well that Erik was still rather inexperienced, and the tall and handsome brunet had never had to show his skills on a tournament so far like the four young knights from the invited families had done.

Robert of Lindelborn had agreed with Richard that this competition should be more about dexterity and cleverness instead of bloody fights, and together, they had chosen each of the contest units very carefully.

The first one had been to hit an iron ring hanging from a rack with the lance from the back of their galloping horses, and Richard had been pleased that Erik and Marian had managed to do that with their second try, both. Only Benedict of Wilenstein had hit the ring right with the first attempt, Mathis and Julian had needed three attempts, much to their dismay, and Conrad had even had to gallop along the path four times.

The young lord of Falkenstein had shot disbelieving glances at Erik and Marian, who were obviously only stupid boys in his opinion, and Richard had suppressed a contented snort and bent to the beautiful young lady sitting beside him and whispered into her ear: “Your brother is doing great, my dear, and I am sure that your presence is what is giving him wings. He misses you, dearly.”

“Thank you, sire. I have missed him just as much, and I am more than proud of him. But, I do believe that he's doing that great only because of you, your majesty. Serving you as your personal squire is all he could ever have wished for.” Lisa of Lewenberc had turned her head to look at him, and her sweet blushing and her grateful glance had charmed the English sovereign even more. Erik's sister was a true lady, not as arrogant and crude like so many other noblewomen Richard had met, and he enjoyed her company, a lot. He could see that Lisa truly loved her husband, and her demeanor towards him was respectful without being servile or too intimate. She was grateful for the opportunity to see her brother, but that was all, and the king found her behavior relaxing and refreshing.

Her words had also flattered him a bit, and he gifted her with a smile. “If you say so, young lady. He is your brother, and you are surely one of the few people truly knowing him.” He leaned back in his comfortable chair, and she nodded, graciously. “Yes, sire. We don't see each other as oftentimes as we would like to nowadays, but we are still close, and I can tell for sure that he is happy.”

“I am pleased to hear that.” Richard focused on the happenings in the arena again, but Lisa's words refused to leave him alone, and the monarch caught himself wishing that Erik's happiness was because of the pledge he had given him earlier, and not only because he was allowed to serve the king of England. He wanted Erik to like _him_ , the man Richard, and not only the blue-blooded ruler. His feelings might be silly and not appropriate, but he just couldn't help them, and he had stopped fighting against them the day he had found Erik in his dark living room, alone and being all in tears.

They had never talked about this afternoon again, but sometimes, Richard saw the same sad and devastated expression in Erik's eyes when the brunet thought that no one was watching him, and he had to admit that he felt jealous of the one who held such power over his young knave. Richard had no clue who he or she was, but he hated the thought of anyone being able to make Erik cry like this.

The shouts coming from several throats caught his attention, and he looked up just to see Erik jumping his horse over the obstacles placed along the course. The young knights had to ride the course three times and in between, they had to dismount their horses to pick up their lances and to mount their beasts as fast as possible afterwards again. This was pretty hard being dressed with a heavy armor, but it was something they might have to do on the battlefield, as well, and Richard was curious which solution Erik would find. The first one having picked up his lance and ridden the course three times would be the winner.

Mathis followed hard on Erik, but Richard hadn't payed attention, busied with what Lisa had said, and he didn't know how many times they had made the course so far. The blue-eyed earl with the dark curls sitting on his right side seemed to sense his confusion, because he bent to him and murmured: “It's the second round, they are ahead of the others, but haven't managed to pick up their lances so far.”

“I see.” Richard narrowed his eyes and looked at the other four riders. Julian was far behind, his horse not willing to jump the obstacles, and the young man had a hard time with staying on the mare's back. Benedict had trouble with climbing his horse after picking up his lance, and his gelding rolled its eyes and stomped its hooves, clearly in distress. Conrad held his lance in a tight grip, but he was slow, his horse always stopping before jumping over the obstacles.  
Marian, Robert's first squire was an experienced rider. Richard had been a witness how skilfully he handled his beast when he had supervised their practices, but even the English sovereign held his breath when the young and rather small man let himself glide to the left side all of a sudden, more hanging beside his horse than sitting upon it, reaching out with his arm and picking up his lance from the dusty ground with one fluent move.

The crowd screamed, but Marian glided back into the saddle with a triumphant shout, storming after Erik and Mathis who had just turned around to make the course for the third time. Erik's lance lay next to one of the obstacles and he pulled at the reins, bringing his mare to an abrupt halt in front of it and jumping from her back to grab his weapon.

Mathis had passed him in the meantime, but he had to stop, as well, to get his own spear, and Erik had apparently learned from Benedict's fruitless attempts to climb his horse without help and used the straw bale serving as one of the obstacles to climb his horse again. His mare had to jump it from a standing position, and Richard held his breath, but as well-trained as she was, she touched the ground on the other side without stumbling, and Erik pressed his heels into her flanks and galloped forward, his only striving to reach Marian who had passed him and Mathis only seconds ago.

The guard lowering down the flag when they passed the finish line shrugged his shoulders in a helpless gesture, announcing that the heads of both horses had passed it at the same time, and now, the lords and ladies looked all at Richard, waiting for his decision who had one this contest, Marian of Lewenberc or Erik of Thanstein.

“We have two winners: Marian of Lewenberc and Erik of Thanstein! The third winner is Conrad of Spangenberg!” Richard informed them, and the Earl of Falkenstein stood up with a snarl. “But, your highness, Marian didn't dismount his horse like he should have! I ask you to disqualify him! My son is the third winner!” the plump man objected, indignantly.

Richard leaned back in his chair and laid his arms on the armrests of his chair. His face was motionless, but his calm voice was the voice of a powerful ruler as he spoke up. “You dare questioning my decision, Lord Hermann of Falkenstein?”

The older man paled, two red spots forming on his cheeks. “Of course, not, your majesty. But, you have been setting up the rules in your great wisdom and knowledge...”

“I did. Their task was to ride the course three times, jump over each obstacle and pick up the lance. Marian of Lewenberc merely did what he was supposed to do and what would save his life in times of war. He showed his skills in an impressive way, and apart from that, also his cleverness. I would have done the same – have done so many times, and he fulfilled his task, perfectly. Your son on the other hand left two of the obstacles out, circling them instead of jumping them, so you might be content with him not being disqualified.” Richard glared at the Earl until Hermann of Falkenstein subdued nodded his head and slumped down on his hard seat again.

“Of course, your majesty, you're too kind,” he mumbled, and the English sovereign felt almost pity with his son who stood in the arena with his head hanging low, clearly ashamed about his own and his father's behavior.

“All of you have done great, young knights!” he assured them. “There will be a short break to remove the obstacles and for you to drink some water, before the next contest will start. Two of you will fight against each other, having to use your lance to push your opponent from his horse. You have three attempts to do so. The winners will fight against each other until only one of you is left.”

The six young men nodded eagerly their heads, and Erik turned his head to look back at Richard with a shy smile before he disappeared into his tent, and the king's sudden dry throat caused him to grab his goblet and sip from the light wine until he had his face back under control again.

Richard was surprised himself about how much he suddenly wished that all the guests would disappear, as well, until it would be only the two of them, Richard himself and his young knave Erik, the only one among all of those people dancing attendance to him here on a foreign castle in a foreign country far away from his home he truly cared about.

 

***

 

Erik had lost his nervousness and his shyness the minute the tournament had started, all of his senses focused on proving that he had learned his lessons well and was worthy to become a true knight one day.  
The first contests had gone more than well, and no one could have been more surprised about that than Erik himself. He had even managed to climb his mare on his own, with the help of a straw bale, but without Oscar serving him as his squire, at least. The Earl of Lindelborn was a very skilled teacher, and he had always found it important to teach his underlings and charges how to become independent and capable of such things without the help of other people.

Erik's skills when it came to riding a horse weren't as good as Marian's and therefore, he hadn't dared to do what his friend had done to pick up his lance, but he had been reasonable enough to know that getting his foot into the stirrup without help wouldn't be possible for him dressed with heavy chausses and a hauberk.

After a short break and Oscar massaging his arms, he was now back in the saddle again, waiting for the next contest to begin. The opponents had been chosen by lot, and his first adversary was Julian. Erik knew that he had to watch out, because Julian was an experienced rider, and he also knew how to use the lance, but Julian's determination to win this contest couldn't be bigger than Erik's and this might be the most important thing here.

The herald blew his cornet again, and Erik watched Julian's horse jumping forward and right in his direction. He clicked his tongue and pressed his heels into the flanks of his mare, but he didn't speed up as much as the dark-haired son of Weglnburg had done, not wanting to lose his balance just because he was too fast. Julian's horse neighed, a shrill sound that warned Erik just when the older one lifted his spear to push it against his shield. Erik pulled at his reins and his mare leaped aside, just enough that he could avoid the blow. They passed each other and turned around at the end of the arena. Erik knew that Julian would be prepared this time, and he changed tactics, bending over the neck of his running beast and lifting his shield up and to the side this time. Julian's lance scratched it and Erik swayed forth and back, but he had grabbed the mane beforehand and clenched his legs tightly around his horse.

Julian let out a curse and turned around so fast that his mare stood on her hind legs, and he still hadn't her back under control when Erik rushed forward with his lance to land a hard blow against his opponent's shield. The movement clearly surprised Julian, and his own momentum as he tried to avoid the blow more or less lifted him out of his saddle.

His horse, suddenly freed from the weight pressing down on its back neighed again and ran until it reached the end of the arena where it stopped, rolling its eyes.

Erik didn't look back, his only striving to get his own beast back under control, and when he had managed to do that, he found himself right before the canopy and the chair where Richard was sitting. “Well done, young knight,” the English monarch praised him, and Erik was sure that his heart would burst with pride. He bowed before the king and his sister beaming at him. “Thank you, sire. My dear sister, only the sun can compete with your beauty today.”

“Flatterer!” Lisa snickered, her cheeks reddening in an adorable pink. She took a small cloth and handed it to him. “Please, take this cloth to tie it around your lance. It may help you winning this tournament, my dear brother!”

Erik shot a quick sidelong glance at Richard, but when the sovereign smiled approvingly at him, he took it and bowed before his sister once more. “You honor me with your pledge, my dear sister. I will do my best to win this tournament for you.”

 _'And for you, Richard,'_ he added in his thoughts, and when they shared one last glance, he could see that the king had read his thoughts and knew how he felt.

 

***

 

Richard was more than pleased that Erik and Marian had been able to defeat their opponents, the only problem now was that they had three winners. He hadn't thought about this beforehand, but Robert obviously had, because the Earl of Lindelborn bent to him and said: “We have to let Marian and Erik fight against each other and each of them against Benedict. The one who wins two times will be the winner. If there will be a tie between two of them, then they'll have to fight against each other for a second time.”

Richard nodded and Robert stood up and informed the guests about the new rules. The crowd whispered, and Richard could see that none of the lords and the ladies believed that the two young squires would have a chance against Benedict, who had defeated Conrad easily with the first try.

Marian was the first who had to fight against the oldest participant of this tournament, and it was clear that he had watched Benedict to learn which tactic he used, because he lowered his shield and bent down on the neck of his gelding before he suddenly raised it with one forceful move, shoving it against Benedict's lance. The son of the Earl of Wilenstein couldn't react in time and lost his balance but stayed in the saddle while his lance flew through the air before it landed on the dusty ground of the arena. Now, the advantage was on Marian's side, and he rammed his own spear against Benedict's shield to throw him out of the saddle with the second attack.

Robert sitting beside Richard neither moved nor cried out with the other watchers, but he kept his eyes firmly on his young squire, and Richard could feel his tension even though they didn't sit that close side by side. The only sign how much the young earl cared about Marian of Lewenberc was the silent exhale when the smaller brunet lifted his lance and his shield in the air. “You taught him well, Robert,” Richard mused, and the piercing blue eyes grazed him for one second before darting back to the winner of this contest. “Thank you, sire.” His voice gave nothing away when he added: “I know for sure that it wasn't me showing Marian this ploy.”

Richard allowed himself a short, pleased chuckle. “That might be true. Ah, now we will see whether or not my personal squire has learned his lesson as well as your squire has learned it.”

Erik was the next one to fight against Bendict, and the older one obviously wanted to make up for his loss because he behaved much more careful this time. He also seemed to expect Erik using the same trick Marian had used, but Erik did the unexpected and simply galloped forward with high speed, and his lance hit Benedict's shield with such force that he almost lost his own balance. He grabbed the mane of his mare and glided back into the saddle right before it was too late, while Benedict lost both, his lance and his shield. He was defenseless now, and the only thing he could do was trying to avoid the blow and stay in the saddle. He did stay in the saddle when Erik attacked him again, but fell from his horse with Erik's third attempt, and now, there were only Marian and Erik left.

The sharp sting in his palm made Richard looking down at his lap where he had clenched his fists, his short nails digging into his palm, painfully. He blinked and carefully unclenched his fingers, hoping that neither Robert nor Erik's sister had noticed his reaction.

No one spoke when Erik and Marian took up position opposite each other, it was almost as if everyone had even stopped breathing, and when the herald blew into his cornet, Richard held his breath, as well. The two young noblemen hesitated for one second before dashing forward all of a sudden, their faces grim under their helmets and nasals.

The English sovereign couldn't avert his eyes from the spectacle in front of him, the hauberks blinking and glistening silvery in the bright May sun and dust clouds whirling through the warm and fragrant air where the hooves hammered over the sandy ground of the arena.

Richard could never tell later what exactly had happened, because the shields reflecting the sunlight forced him to close his eyes for one tiny moment, but everything went pretty fast – too fast to really see it – and then, the king watched Marian of Lewenberc falling down from his horse like in slow motion and Erik throwing his lance onto the ground before lifting his arm into the air with a shout.

Erik of Thanstein was the winner of the tournament.

 

_View from the highest tower of Castle Altdahn over Castle Grafendahn to Castle Tanstein (Thanstein), the castle I have chosen to be Erik's home. In the year 1193, only Castle Thanstein existed, the oldest one of the three castles sitting enthroned on top of one of the Pfälzer mountains right next to each other._

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, my servant Oscar might have been inspired by your Oscar, only that mine is much less defiant to not interfere with your character too much... ;-)


	7. May 1193: The Feast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik has won the tournament and is allowed to sit beside Richard during the feast following the competition. Will the evening turn out the way he hopes it will, or will something happen during the feast no one has expected?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dear Arrested, sorry that it took me so long, but I seem to be incapable of writing shorter chapters, and I am afraid that it will stay forever May in my story. Maybe, after the next one, we will actually reach June... ;-)  
> I hope you will like the chapter, my Richard is probably pretty pathetic and absolutely not like the real Richard has been, but I like my version of Richard. I have so much fun with this story, and Oscar will get a more important role along the way, I promise you. :-)
> 
> Dear GoForGoals, I am happy that you like my Richard as much as I do, I couldn't resist to include someone for you I know you love even more. His role will stay ambigious for a while, but I hope that you'll like my idea. :-)
> 
> My dear readers, please enjoy the new chapter and let me know if you liked it!

The tables threatened to break under the weight of the bowls and platters filled with all the deliciously smelling food that were placed upon the dark wood of the tables. Erik looked around with big eyes, furtively, as he tried hard to give himself the appearance of not feeling intimidated by the huge and somewhat scary amount of different dishes. He could see roast venison, quails and their eggs swimming in sauce, stew from the deer and pork filled with beans and other delicacies, and he had no clue what he would like and what not, because in Castle Thanstein, there had hardly been the opportunity for such feasts, and the marriage of his sister hadn't been comparable to this banquet, at all, either.

Of course, he had served the Earl of Lindelborn and the English sovereign on many occasions beforehand, even during the feasts with the emperor Heinrich, but Erik had always stood behind their chairs then, having only to fill their plates with the things they pointed at, and he had never had to choose from all those meals himself. He had eaten later on from the leftovers that had been left for the servants or simply porridge, bread and cheese or other uncomplicated things.

Today, after having won the tournament much to his own surprise, he was allowed to sit at the king's table as one of the most honored guests, supposed to choose from the dishes he didn't know, at all. Erik really didn't want to make a fool of himself by choosing something he would dislike and get a stomach bug from, and he threw a pleading glance at Marian who sat on Robert's right side. Marian was far more experienced when it came to such feasts, and Erik hoped that his friend would give him some advice what he could eat without the danger of making a complete fool of himself, but the shorter one was too far away to really be of help. The envious and jealous glances of the other guests who were not allowed to sit at the king's table made him fret and worry even more, and he clenched his hand around the goblet filled with the sweet but heavy red wine as if it was his only lifeline.

Richard the Lionheart sat at the short side of the table that was placed before the wall with the splendid tapestry to protect the emperor - or his royal hostage in this case – from the cold radiating from the thick sandstone. Robert of Lindelborn as his personal bodyguard on this important day was sitting on his right side, and Erik as the winner of the tournament seated at his left side. Marian as the second winner and Robert's personal squire was seated at the earl's right side, and the other honored guests welcomed at the king's table sat on both long sides of the large 'U' the table formed.

The other aristocrats of the court had had to find their seats at the other four tables opposite where the king sat, and it was clear that they didn't understand why Marian's older brother Fabian as the heir of a rather unimportant baron and his young wife, Erik's sister were treated as honored guests, while some of the other earls had to sit far away from the English monarch.

“I understand your nervousness, young knave, but please try harder to not look like a scared rabbit sitting before a snake, Erik,” Richard's smooth voice suddenly sounded next to his ear, and Erik turned his head to gaze at him. “I'll do my very best, sire. But I do feel like a poor rabbit that is supposed to be the snake's dinner...” he mumbled, sheepishly, and his honesty earned him a soft, amused chuckle from his admired king.

“After one or two goblets of this wine, you will feel less frightened, Erik. But, be careful with it, I don't want you to get drunk on your first feast.”

“I will be careful, I promise. It's only – I can see how offended the other lords and ladies feel because I am allowed to sit beside you, sire, and that my sister and her husband have been allowed to take their seats on your table, as well. Maybe, I should just search for another place, by the door for example...” Erik said, trying a cautious smile. Richard's eyes became dark with some emotions the young squire couldn't really detect, and he shook his head with a grim expression. “Oh no, Erik, you will do no such thing! You are exactly where I want you to be during the feast, and the same goes for your sister. Lisa is a true lady, opposite to most of the noblewomen here, and Fabian of Lewenberc knows how to behave, something only a few young lords here seem to be capable of. It is a pleasure to have them at my table, and I won't give the other arrogant members of the court here the opportunity or satisfaction to treat you and your family without the respect you have earned, rightfully, and which you more than deserve. They will get over it, don't worry. The wine will see to that within the next hours.”

Erik swallowed. “If you say so, sire.”

Richard considered him with pursed lips. “I do. Is there anything else worrying you, Erik? You can tell me everything that's troubling you, I want you to enjoy this day, only.”

“Hm, yes, I don't know any of the dishes served here, and I don't want to embarrass myself by choosing something I can't eat...” he confessed, feeling the well-known heat of redness crawling into his cheeks. He expected Richard to laugh at his admission, but the older man surprised him once more, because his understanding smile could only be called tender. “I see, Erik. That won't be a problem, though. Just choose what I will eat, you should be fine, then.”

“Thank you, sire,” the young squire whispered, deeply grateful, risking a quick glance at the two young man standing behind them as their servants. Oscar behind his own chair held his head up high, and Erik could see how proud he was about his new and unexpected task of being allowed to serve the winner of the tournament during the feast.

The other squire standing behind Richard was Sven, while his brother Lars stood behind Robert. They were actually no servants, but two of Robert's best fighters, and Erik had wondered about Robert's decision at first, before he had realized that Sven and Lars were not supposed to keep the royal hostage from trying to escape, but possible assassins from sneaking up on Richard to harm or even kill him. They had also stood behind them under the canopy during the tournament, and Erik was grateful for their calm presence. Sven smiled warmly at him when he caught his gaze, and Erik relaxed in the knowledge that the twins would serve the king and their lord perfectly as both, squires and guards tonight. His eyes traveled further to the young man behind Marian. Moritz had joined Robert's household a couple of months ago, he was a quick learner and already a good fighter, and his face was suffused with his excitement about his sudden promotion. It would be only for one evening, but Erik was pretty sure that the boy would dream about the feast for a rather long time afterwards.

The son of the Baron of Thanstein smiled, remembering how he had felt when he had served his king for the first time, and he focused his attention back to Richard who had leaned back in his chair to tell Sven standing behind him what he wanted to eat when a sudden noise coming from the door interrupted the start of the banquet.

 

***

 

Richard had waited for Erik to relax a little bit, patiently, and when he sensed that the young man had calmed down enough to enjoy the feast without throwing up what he tried to eat right away again, he pointed at the platter with the crispy and succulent and pigling. He was sure that his young knave would like the meat and the taste, but the sudden commotion at the door made him look up again.

Roman, the head of Robert's guards tonight, entered the knight's hall with two of his soldiers following hard on him, but this wasn't what made the English sovereign gasp out in surprise. It was the young man they dragged along in between them, a face Richard had thought he would never see again.

Richard the Lionheart rose to his feet without thinking, bracing his palms against the top of the wooden table as he bent forward to take a closer look at the strange visitor.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he growled, and Roman stopped in the middle of the 'U' to bow deeply before the monarch. “I am very sorry that I have to disturb you, your majesty, but this man was lurking in the bushes before the gate, and he insists of knowing you, personally, your highness. I don't know why a simple minstrel like him should consider the king of England his friend, but this is what he has given us as an explanation. He was so persistent that I thought it better to bring him here because it could be that he is a hired assassin. Maybe, he has even some accomplices waiting outside the castle for him.”

Richard had listened to Roman's words, silently and impassively, and he could feel Robert and Erik who had stood up, as well, tensing up beside him. The twins guarding him tonight had moved closer to protect him, and Richard couldn't blame them for their mistrust. He was politician enough to know that he was in constant danger of being murdered, because not only his brother or Philipp, the king of France wanted to see him dead, but a lot of other people, as well.

But, the king of England knew for sure that this young man would never hurt him or try to kill him, and he felt his eyes become wet when he looked at the well-known and very much liked face of his friend.

“Shall we question or punish him?” Roman dared to ask when Richard didn't say anything, but simply stared at the stranger dressed like a minstrel, and this finally pulled him out of his haze.

“No, you will do neither the first, nor the second. Let go of him and let him come closer. I know this minstrel. He has told you the truth, because we are indeed friends. Blondel, my friend, please come here and let me see your face and hear your voice. It has been far too long since I could last do that!”

The minstrel with the name Blondel pulled his arms out of the tight grip of the two guards and stepped forward to fall onto his knees before Richard. He raised his head to follow his king's order and let him take a look at his face, and when he opened his mouth to speak up, his wonderful voice trembled with his emotion.

“You are right, my king Richard, it has been far too long since we've last seen each other. I traveled through this country from castle to castle to search for you, and I promised myself that I wouldn't rest until I would have finally found you. And now, that I am here and allowed to see your face again and listen to your voice, I am surely the luckiest man on earth, sire! I am Blondel, your humble minstrel, my king Richard, and I will never stop serving you as long as I'll breathe.”

 

***

 

After the tumult the arrival of the minstrel Blondel had caused, the feast had gone on, undisturbed, but Erik couldn't really enjoy it. Richard was attentive and talked to him, keeping his promise to see to Erik being able to rely on his choice of food, but the young squire could feel that the English sovereign was distracted and in a melancholic mood ever since he had welcomed his old friend from happier days.

The minstrel was sitting on a chair where he had fallen onto his knees before his king now, his beautiful voice filling the with the various smells and the smoke of the torches thick and heavy air in the knight's hall as he sang the songs for his king Richard hadn't heard in a very long time. Erik didn't understand what the young man with the name Blondel was singing, because he had never learned the English or French language, but he could tell by the monarch's wistful expression that the songs were about his homeland, the soft, green hills of his beloved country and the proud people living there, about longing and undying love.

Richard's face was as soft and unguarded as Erik had never seen it before, and the sharp sting of jealousy pooling in his stomach made him put his spoon and his knife back onto his plate. The young squire wasn't sure what it was bothering him so much, whether it was Blondel's male beauty as he sat there, singing for his king, his amber-golden eyes sparkling in the light of the candles and torches and his blond hair shining like gold, or if it was more that the minstrel could give Richard something Erik would never be able to give him: the feeling of home.

Erik couldn't share the memories of their home country with him, of the friends and beloved ones they both knew and cherished, and he couldn't sing those special songs to Richard, songs that let pictures of his home play before his mind's eye, songs that sounded so familiar to Richard because of the languages and the melodies the king had listened to most of his life.

Erik knew that he was handsome and rather good-looking, but he was still more a boy than a grown up man, opposite to Blondel whose beauty was the beauty of a grown up man, the aura of wistfulness surrounding him boosting his beauty and attractiveness even more. Richard's personal minstrel was of the same height as Erik himself, and he was slim, his lithe body gently swaying forth and back to the wistful tunes he elicited his harp. His eyes hardly left the English sovereign's face, but sometimes, the young squire could feel Blondel's intensive amber-golden gaze upon his own features, just as if the other man would look straight into his soul and his heart to find all of the secrets Erik carefully kept to himself there with ease.

Erik felt drawn in to Blondel almost against his will, and he listened to his melancholic and yet so beautiful songs with rapt devotion, the food on his plate and the wine in his goblet completely forgotten.

"Every time I listen to his songs, it is as if I could feel the soft English rain on my face and taste the salty air of the cost with its white rocks.” Richard had bent to him, and Erik straightened his shoulders and smiled at his lionheart. He didn't know when he had started to think of Richard as his lionheart but for him, Richard the king of England was his personal hero, his tower of strength, simply his lionheart. Erik had won the tournament only because of him, and all he craved for was the king's approving smile and his encouraging words that warmed him more than the brightest fire burning in the hearth could ever warm him. His hand came up to touch the spot where Richard had left his pledge hours ago, and the dark brown eyes wrinkled into a soft smile when Richard noticed his unconscious gesture.

“You could take a walk with your sister in the rose garden, Erik. You surely want to talk to her, and I have to talk to my dear friend Blondel, undisturbed, for a while. Will you do that for me, young knave?” The king's voice was as gentle as his face, and Erik realized that Richard had actually asked him a favor instead of simply giving him an order, but his request had been brought forward with so much emotion that Erik could never have turned it down. “Of course, sire, you're right. I would love to spend some time with my sister. It has been so long since I've last seen her,” he said, and Richard gifted him with one of his rare, honest smiles that came directly from his heart.

“Thank you, Erik. This is your day, enjoy the rest of the evening with your friends and your family. I will see you later in our room, my dear.” Richard stood up with one single, fluent move, waving at his minstrel to follow him. When Robert rose to his feet to join him, the king shook his head and pointed at Sven and Lars. “I want to talk privately to my dear friend, Robert. I know that you understand and speak French and English rather fluently, and I don't want you to listen to what we're talking about. Be assured that I don't plan to conspire with my minstrel against you. I'll accept your guards, though, because I know that they speak neither French nor English.”

The Earl of Lindelborn hesitated but then, accepted the monarch's wish. “Of course, sire. Sven, Lars, please make sure that no one will come close enough to the king to harm him.”

“Yes, my lord!” Lars and Sven answered in perfect unison, and Erik watched the four men leave the knight's hall, the sign for the other noblemen and ladies to stand up, as well, and start the joyful part of the evening with drinking, walking around and doing things no young lady or nobleman should do. The older ones would prefer the drinking and the game with the dices, but Erik was sure that the rose garden and other hidden places within the castle would be used for less harmless games.

He sighed, staring after the tall figure of the man who had trapped his heart without any chance to get it back again until he was out of the sight, his red coat swinging around his shoulders as he walked with natural grace, and the last thing he saw before the door closed behind them was Blondel, who turned his head to shoot him one last long and strange look, his golden eyes glowing in a passionate light.

 

***

 

“Castle Trifels is so impressive!” Lisa looked around as she strolled through the rose garden with Erik, and her brother smiled when he remembered how he had almost fallen from his beast the first time he had seen the imperial castle in all its glory. “Yes, it is, my dear sister,” he said, “impressive and certainly impregnable. I am so happy to have you here and talk to you, I've missed you, badly!”

His sister gazed up at him from underneath her bonnet. “You don't look happy, brother. What's wrong with you, Erik? It isn't because of Richard, is it? I have gotten the impression that the king is very kind to you. He seems to truly care about you.”

Erik suppressed a groan. Lisa simply knew him too well enough to not notice what was going on right away. “He is kind and caring,” he said, trying to give his voice a carefree tone. She eyed him from the side, dropping her voice to not be heard. “Not caring enough for your liking, I guess, brother dear?”

The brunet flinched, putting his finger on his lips to silence her. “Lisa!” he hissed, but the young lady only snickered. “No one's around to listen to us, don't worry!” she said, gifting him with a sisterly smile. “He couldn't take his eyes off you during the tournament, I do believe that he likes you, as well.”

“Not as much as he likes Blondel, his minstrel,” he mumbled, a new wave of jealousy shooting through him by the thought of his lionheart and the blond minstrel being alone and enjoying each other's company while he was walking around with his sister. Not that he didn't love her or wouldn't have been more than happy to see her and spend time with her, but still... Sven and Lars might be with them, but they didn't understand what Richard and Blondel were talking about, and they wouldn't know it if they shared tender words.

“Don't worry about the minstrel, Erik. He is your king's friend, the one who can bring him news from his homeland and ease his homesickness a little bit, but that's all.” Lisa shook his head, sniffing on one of the red roses blooming on the wonderful bush next to where they stood.

“He is not my king, sister mine,” Erik felt the need to object, but she only raised one strict eyebrow at him like she had done so many times when they had been younger and both still living on Castle Thanstein. “Of course, he is. Don't be silly, Erik, even you must have noticed the way he looks at you. At least, he will be your king sooner rather than later, I'm sure about that. Uh, look what they are doing!” Lisa then changed the topic, pointing at Sir Walter's daughter and Mathis of Falkenstein, who stood a couple of meters away from them, partly hidden by another rose bush. She pulled a face, and Erik couldn't help but chuckle when he saw her nose crinkling with disgust. “You are married for almost one year by now, and Fabian is crazy in love with you, don't tell me that he has never kissed you, Lisa!” his gaze darted to her belly and the soft swelling underneath her blue robe. She hadn't told him so far, but her rosy cheeks and the sparks in her eyes told him enough.

His sister scowled playfully at him. “Of course, he has kissed me. But, look at her teeth, Erik! I had to spend some time in her company after our arrival, and she smells – her mouth if you know what I mean. Mathis is nicer than he behaves, he deserves better than that!”

Erik grinned, forgetting his worries and jealousy for a while. “Maybe, the wine covers the smell from her teeth. Or he is too drunk to notice that she's stinking. May it be as it is, I do believe that there is something you should tell me, sister mine?” He gazed down at her with all the strictness he could muster, and Lisa blushed and beamed at him. “Yes, there is, Fabian and I will have a baby next winter!”

“I knew it!!” Erik lifted her up to sway her forth and back until she giggled and punched his arm. “Uh, let me down, or I will become sick again! I'm so glad that dinner stayed where it should stay so far! This morning sickness is more or less an all-day-sickness, sometimes!”

Erik carefully lowered her back onto her feet. “Your wish is my command, lady,” he joked, pulling her hand through his bent forearm. “You have to tell me everything that has happened, Lisa,” he said, guiding her to a bench near the bush.

Lisa sat down and he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close, her familiar fragrance and her sweet smile calming him and bringing back his good mood. Richard had been right with what he had said, Erik had missed Lisa, deeply, and he would spent the evening of this wonderful day in her company and forget his troubles, and most of all, the blond minstrel who obviously meant so much to the man Erik himself loved and adored with all his heart, at least for a little while.

 

***

 

Richard smiled at his loyal friend and companion when he had been so much younger, which seemed to be a lifetime ago. Blondel had still been only a young boy back then, young when it came to his actual age, but wise and mature when it came to his mind and his heart.

“I still can't believe that you have found me, Blondel,” he said, pacing up and down before the cold hearth in his private living room. His two guards stood by the door, their faces impassive as they stared at the wall opposite them, but Richard didn't let himself be fooled, he knew that they were listening and watching, sharply, not necessarily to what he said, but to what might happen in the hallway before the door.

His minstrel leaned against frame of the fireplace, watching him with his amber-golden eyes and a small lopsided smile curling at the corner of his sensitive mouth. “You didn't really think that I would ever give up in my attempts to find you, my king Richard?” he asked, softly, and Richard stopped in his pacing to smile at him. “I should have known it, my friend, you have always been one of my most loyal companions.”

“If you had allowed me to come with you, the Austrian wouldn't have been able to trap you, my king,” Blondel stated, and Richard's smile deepened. Blondel had always spoken freely to him, had never held anything back, and the English monarch had always appreciated his open speech. No one had ever dared to talk to him like this except for his younger friend, and Richard knew quite well that most of the stupid people he had to deal with didn't understand their bond and why he allowed his minstrel such a behavior.

“Most likely, but you are a minstrel, not a warrior, my friend.” The king started pacing again, and Blondel pushed himself away from the fireplace to step closer to him.

“This might have changed, my king,” he said, quietly, and the golden fire in his eyes let a strange feeling rise in Richard's gut. Blondel had changed during the time they had been apart, and his gaze was not the gaze of the bard he had always been, but the gaze of a fighter.

The blond crossed the room until he stood only a few inches away from him, and when Richard looked him in the eyes, he knew what his friend would say before he opened his mouth to speak.

“I haven't come only to see you, my king Richard. I have come to free you!”

 

_Maybe, there has once lived a young man like my Erik, this is one of the most impressive ruins of Castle Thanstein:_

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, cliffhanger, I'm sooo (not) sorry for this cliffhanger. (Just like I promised you, cough, cough, hides behind her laptop). I'll try to hurry with the next chapter, I promise. <3333
> 
> I decided to include the legend of the minstrel Blondel, who freed Richard the Lionheart from his dungeon on Castle Trifels. It is only a legend, the proofs of his imprisonment tell us that he stayed Heinrich's hostage until he had payed the ransom money and sworn the oath of allegiance. But, I found the legend rather romantic and perfect for my little fairytale, and I also needed the perfect role for Marco Reus, I think he matches perfectly with the role of the minstrel Blondel. :-) My version will be different from the original legend but after all, this is pure fanfiction, and we can write our boys the way we want to, right? :-)


	8. May 1193: After The Feast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blondel has told Richard that he came to free him. How will Richard react? And what are Marian, Robert and Erik doing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dear Arrested, as promised the next chapter, this time I didn't even forget the picture. I went with your request and saw to Marian getting his reward from Robert, I hope you will like it, please enjoy! ;-D

For one long moment, Richard the Lionheart simply stared at his old friend, and he was actually speechless and didn't know what to say to Blondel's unexpected revelation.

Not that he hadn't secretly expected someone coming to help him escape Heinrich's captivity, but certainly not that his chance to flee from his luxury prison would appear in the form of his bard, who had never even only tried to become a warrior himself. Blondel knew a lot about plots and politics, but he had never striven to fight for his rights – or the rights of the people he cared about – with lethal weapons ever since Richard had met him. The man standing before him didn't resemble the Blondel he had known only the slightest, and Richard wasn't so sure whether he appreciated the minstrel's change or more likely feared it.

But, that wasn't his only reason for his hesitation and reluctance.

The English sovereign hadn't thought it possible when he had arrived on Castle Trifels, but he had actually come to somehow make his peace with his stay on Castle Trifels, resigning himself to the fate of having to pay the money Heinrich wanted to get from him and swear the oath of allegiance to him. It had needed a rather long time for this to happen, and Richard was still impatient to leave the continent and go back to his people and his beloved homeland, but the thought of what he would have to leave behind also filled him with deep regret and melancholy.

The one thing the king of England had never believed it likely to happen had actually happened to him after so many years: he had fallen in love.

Fallen in love with a wonderful, sweet and innocent young man, and Richard was torn between his wish to escape his guards and feel the sun, the wind and the soft rain of his own country on his face again, and the desire to stay on Castle Trifels and close to the one who had trapped his heart with his beautiful smile and his sparkling eyes.

Erik of Thanstein.

So sweet, so young and so innocent and yet so desirable and irresistible.

Richard was experienced and sensible enough to know that Erik returned his feelings, but he was also reasonable and wise enough to know that their love could never be, and that he should better stay away from the young squire he desired and loved more than he had ever desired and loved anybody else in his entire life.

It was only so hard to stay reasonable and strong whenever Erik was near him, smiling at him and seeking his touch and his approval without realizing it himself.

Richard sighed, forcing his mind away from the one he could never have to focus his attention back on Blondel, who was watching him, silently but closely. The expression on his face was unreadable, and Richard never having had any problems with reading his friend, easily, before this day realized once more how much time had passed since he had left England to fight the holy war in the name of the church and the cross.

“I would have thought that you would be more than eager to leave this place and this country, my king Richard, but I can see that I have been wrong with that,” the blond bard now stated, quietly, cocking his head to the side. There was no reproach audible in his voice, but his eyes were slightly narrowed when he continued: “It is because of the young squire, the handsome brunet with the beautiful eyes who has sat next to you, isn't it?”

“It is complicated, Blondel. You know enough about politics to see what would happen if I actually tried to escape. The way to the cost is long, and we would have to cross France. Philipp is much less inclined to show mercy with me than Heinrich is, and he would surely not only try to catch me, but also to kill me.”

“The Richard I've known wouldn't have be deterred by this possibility.” Blondel held his ground and didn't step back, even though he more or less had called his royal friend a coward.

Richard only smiled, melancholically. “Maybe, this Richard doesn't exist any longer, Blondel. A lot has changed since we've last seen each other. Times have changed. My behavior from earlier days is what has brought me here in the first place. And to answer your question: There is nothing between Erik and me!”

“Erik, hm. A beautiful name, it suits him. You love him, Richard, I can see it in your eyes when you look at him.”

Richard trained senses were aware of the twins watching Blondel and him, and this kept him from giving his friend an answer that would have revealed that they were fighting. Sven and his brother might not understand the words, but they would read in his face and hear the anger and dismay in his voice, and they would put two and two together. Instead, he reached out to briefly touch his friend's arm and said. “You've always seen too much, Blondel. I could never hide my secrets from you. He doesn't know it, and I expect you to keep my secret!”

Blondel bowed his head. “As you wish, my king Richard. I won't give up my tries to convince you that you are needed in England, now more than ever. Your people suffer, deeply, under your worthless brother's rulership, your highness.”

Blondel had used the official address only rare times so far, Richard had always been 'my king Richard' or even only Richard in private for him, and the king knew why his minstrel had called him 'your highness' this time. He didn't need a reminder of how badly his folk needed him, but he had been serious about the changes, and a failed escape attempt would make things even worse. Richard had learned enough about the Earl of Lindelborn to suspect that the dark-haired knight probably already knew what was going on, and he simply couldn't risk endangering his young knave with such an attempt, at least not right after the tournament.

“Give me some time to think about it, my friend, a couple of days.”

Blondel bowed again. “As you wish, my king Richard.” His face gave nothing away of what he was thinking again, and the English monarch felt tired down to his bones all of a sudden.

“I need some time alone, Blondel. I will tell Lars to accompany you to your chamber, you will be my honored guest and not a prisoner, I shall see to that.”

The bard smiled at him, and it was the soft and understanding smile Blondel had gifted him in former times with. “You do look tired, Richard. Don't worry, I won't do anything stupid. To be honest, I could do with some rest, as well.”

Richard allowed himself to relax. Blondel had never lied to him so far, and he was glad about the delay. He waved at Lars, who came closer, cautiously. “Lars, I want you to see to my friend getting an appropriate chamber where he can stay during his visit. He is tired from his long journey, and I wish to stay in my rooms, alone and undisturbed, as well. You can stay on guard duty in the hallway before the door, and the only ones being allowed to visit me will be your superior, the Earl of Lindelborn, his first squire Marian, and my personal squire Erik, of course.”

Lars bowed before him. “Yes, your majesty.” He jerked his head in the direction of the door and Blondel followed him after another bow, slowly, shooting one last glance back Richard before the three men closed the door behind them. For the first time ever since this morning, the English monarch was finally alone with his troubles and his heavy thoughts, trying to wrap his head around what had happened since Erik had joined him hours ago to sit down at his table and eat the porridge just to please his king.

 

***

 

“Finally alone with you!” Robert of Lindelborn growled, relieved and passionately at the same time, and Marian couldn't suppress his happy snicker when his beloved lord pulled him into the dark shadows of the farthest corner in the stables.

The feast had seemed to go on forever, and Marian hadn't expected Robert finding some time for him, because he had to see to his duties as the head of the royal hostage's guards on such occasions even more than usual. Not to mention that after Blondel's sudden appearance, Marian had thought that Robert would patrol the castle for the rest of the night, personally.

Which he obviously planned to do with Marian by his side, at least for some time, because he had ordered his first squire to control the stables with him. Marian had been more than happy to follow his order and hurry after him, because he'd rather patrol the castle with the man he loved more than anything for the rest of the night than waste his time with playing stupid games and drinking too much.

“I thought that you wanted to check the stables, my lord!” he giggled, and he could see Robert's blue eyes lightening up by this challenge despite the darkness surrounding them.

“I will do that, my cheeky knave, after I have punished you for what you have done, properly!” the earl snarled, and the younger one's eyes went big at that. “Punished me? For what, my lord?” he stammered, instinctively stepping back.

The steel-hard muscled arms of the trained warrior kept him from doing so, and the dark-haired aristocrat's smile could only be called predatory as he pulled his trembling prey close to his hot body. Marian could almost taste Robert's arousal on his tongue, and he relaxed a little bit. Maybe, he would like the promised punishment more than he had first feared.

Robert's body radiated the heat of his strong desire, and his lips traveling over his jaw and Marian's vulnerable throat seemed to burn his skin. “For having lost the competition against Erik on purpose, young knave!” The earl's voice had dropped to the one he only used in the bedroom, mostly when Marian was lying naked and trapped underneath his body and he was buried to the hilt deep inside him. The son of the Baron of Lewenberc shivered, but it wasn't a shiver of fear.

“Uhm, you noticed that?” he moaned as he eagerly tilted his head to the side to give his lord better access to his throat.

“Of course, I did. Erik defeated you much too easily. I thought that I had taught you better than being that obvious. I am pretty sure that Richard noticed it, as well.” Marian was pressed against the rough wood of the stable wall, and the cool air suddenly grazing the flushed skin of his abdomen told him that the earl had managed to open his trousers one-handed.

The young brunet was already rock hard and aching, and he longed to feel Robert's lips on his own and get the kiss he craved for for hours by now, but Robert had apparently been serious about punishing his younger lover, because he teased him with brushing over his mouth with his lips and his tongue without ever coming close enough for a real kiss.

“It was only because Erik is my friend!” he defended himself, desperately. “I wanted Richard to be proud of him and make this day special for both of them. It would most likely have been a draw between us, neither of us falling down from our horses, and Erik deserved to be the winner! He had done so well!”

The ardent onslaught on his mouth silenced him, effectively, as he eventually got the kiss he longed for so urgently, and Marian wrapped his arms around his lord and let him claim his mouth with a happy sigh. Robert's tongue was everywhere in the soft cavern, demanding access to each spot, and the brunet granted him what he wanted while his body pressed against Robert's to its own will. The cheeky and deft, warm fingers had found their goal without hesitation, and the rhythmical strokes up and down on his leaking member pushed Marian towards the edge of satisfaction without mercy.

“I know why you did what you did, love,” Robert whispered when he let go of his thoroughly kissed lips. “I love you even more for your feat if this is possible,” he assured Marian, dabbing tender kisses all over his face.

“You really do?” Marian asked, happily and relived. “So this is not meant as a punishment but more as a reward?”

Robert chuckled. “Of course, silly. What did you think? But, you wouldn't have been as pliant and cooperative as I wanted you to be for what I long to do, and letting you think that I wanted to punish you fulfilled its purpose very nicely!”

“Oh, you!” Marian tried to grouse, only to moan loudly instead, because Robert had dropped to his knees and taken his aching cock into his mouth with one single fluent move. “Oooohhhhhh!”

“You should try to stay silent, Marian. We don't want to arouse some attention, do we?” the earl mumbled around his throbbing dick, and Marian closed his eyes and braced his hands against the wood of the wall to keep his balance. He had done this for Robert several times so far, never til the end, though, his shy attempts to pleasure the man he loved this way always stopped by Robert pulling him up and taking him instead, but Robert had never done this for him so far, and Marian hadn't even thought of asking him this favor.

“But this is sooooo... uuuuhhhhh!” he gasped out, the tongue licking over his sensitive, with his arousal wet slit and swirling around the engorged head of his manhood making him see stars before his closed eyelids. It was clear that Robert knew exactly what he was doing, much better than Marian had known it when he had done this for the first time, and the young squire was glad for the wall stabilizing him, because his knees buckled with all the sensations coursing through him. When Robert started to bob his head up and down with hollow cheeks, sucking him deep into his throat, Marian had to bite down hard on his bottom lip to no cry out. His groin burned with his need, and he could feel his orgasm approaching without any chance to hold himself back. This was so good, better than anything he had ever experienced except for feeling Robert deep inside him, and he could hardly keep his hips still.

The Earl of Lindelborn was determined to make him lose the last shreds of his self-control, though, because he slipped one finger between his spread legs to circle his puckered rosebud and massage it, gently, and this was finally too much for Marian. “I'm clos...” he moaned, but his cock was already exploding, shooting his seed deep down the willing mouth and throat in fast jets. Marian could taste blood on his lip as he came hard, his teeth digging into the soft flesh almost desperately.

Robert sucked him through his height until Marian was spent and drained of every little drop, enjoying himself by licking him clean afterwards, carefully. Marian leaned heavily against the wall, unable to help his earl with bringing his clothing back in order. “I want to do that for you, too, Robert!” he only murmured when the older man pulled him in for a tender kiss, but Robert shook his head and smiled at him. “This was your reward for making Erik and his king happy, Marian. I have to control the castle and make sure that the men waiting for Blondel's sign won't succeed with what he has planned. I want you to go to bed and rest, love.”

Robert's words had pulled Marian out of his blissful haze, and he snapped his eyes open. “Do you really think that something like this will happen? I should be with you, then!”

“Of course, Marian. Richard's bard didn't came without reason. I actually don't think that he will try to free him right away tonight, but it could be that he tries to sneak some of his accomplices into the castle, and I want to be prepared if this is going to happen. And don't worry about me, love, I'm used to staying up all night. The tournament was straining for you, and I don't want having to worry about your well-being, so please, do me the favor and go to bed.”

Marian nodded, a heartfelt yawn wrecking his lithe frame. “I have to admit that I am tired. Do you think that Erik has noticed my 'feat' as you've put it, as well?”

Robert stroked his cheek. “No, I don't think so, Marian. Plus, I'm sure that Richard won't tell him that, either. As you've said it: Erik has done great and deserved to win, and you can always say that the sun has blinded you or something like this. Now, go to bed and let me see to my duties, young knave!”

“Yes, my lord!” Marian snickered, stealing one last kiss from his earl. “I love you, Robert.”

“I love you, too, Marian.” Robert gifted him with one of his rare, honest smiles before he disappeared into the darkness of the stable, and Marian, waiting for the opportunity to steel himself out of the stable without being noticed, watched him leave with happiness and satisfaction warming his body and his heart, and the thought that this must truly be the happiest day of his whole life so far.

 

***

 

Lisa had been tired from the journey and the happenings of the day, and Erik had left her under her husband's care before he had strolled through the dark castle, aimlessly. The young squire felt tired and wide awake at the same time, and he was too restless to go back to his small chamber.

Lisa's words had eased his mind during their talk, but now, that he was alone with his thoughts again, his worries and his jealousy came back. He could literally see his king – his lionheart sitting before the fireplace in his living room close to the blond minstrel, smiling at him and sharing passionate and tender whispers with him. Maybe, they had even found their way into Richard's bedroom to celebrate their unexpected reunion in the most intimate way possible.

Erik still remembered the day Robert had sent him away to offer the emperor's royal hostage the services of some young maid, and Erik had always wondered whether or not Richard had taken him up on this offer. The king had never done anything suspicious like sending Erik away for the night or disappearing for hours again, and the squire with the hazel-green eyes was sure that he now knew the reason for Richard's decision to stay abstinent.

Richard the Lionheart was in love with his blond minstrel, and he hadn't wanted to cheat on him. Lisa must have been wrong about the monarch being interested in him, and Erik would better get used to having to watch Blondel dancing attendance to the man he loved more than he had ever loved someone without giving his own feelings away.

The son of the Baron of Thanstein heaved a sigh and his steps faltered when he realized that he had taken the wrong way and was now standing in the corridor before the guest quarters. Lisa would already be sound asleep in the arms of her beloved Fabian, and Erik didn't want to disturb her. He turned around to leave this part of the castle, but a silent noise coming from the left side made him crane his neck to see where the noise had come from.

Richard's bard Blondel was standing on the threshold to one of the rooms, watching him, silently.

Erik stared back, taken aback about this unforseen and unwanted meeting. He mused about simply leaving him standing there and flee from the older man's overwhelming presence, but Blondel's smooth voice kept him standing where he was like glued to the spot.

“Erik, what an unexpected pleasure to meet you here,” the minstrel purred. “Please, come into my room, I really want to get to know you better.”

Erik licked his lips, unsure what to do. “I should go back to my duties, I am sure that the king is already waiting for me,” he mumbled, hating it that he was already blushing again.

The blond cocked his head to the side, and his amber-golden eyes shimmered in a strange light. “My king uttered the wish to stay alone for a while when I've left him, Erik. This hasn't been that long ago. Why don't you come in and tell me more about you? After all, we both care about my king, don't we? I'm sure that you don't wish to disturb his peaceful loneliness.”

Erik hesitantly stepped closer, and Blondel smiled brightly at him, pulling the door open in an inviting gesture. “My room will be your room as long as you'll wish to stay.”

The brunet entered the guest room that was enlightened only by four candles. Their warm, yellow light flickered slightly because of the gust of wind Blondel had caused when he had closed the door, and Erik stared fascinated at the shadows the small flames threw onto the walls of the rather splendid chamber.

Of course, Richard couldn't risk letting Blondel stay in his own rooms, but he had made sure that the man he loved would be as comfortable as only possible. “Do you want something to drink, my dear Erik? Some wine?” Blondel didn't wait for his answer, but filled two goblets wit the sparkling red beverage, handing one of them to Erik still standing in the middle of the room.

Erik took it, too confused to object, and he sipped from the wine, grateful that he could hide his face from the attentive and observant eyes watching him that way.

“Sit down, Erik of Thanstein,” the older man said, taking his elbow and guiding him to the alcove under the window. The thick curtains kept the cool air of the late spring night at bay, and Erik sat down on the cozy cushions, before he realized that the bard had managed to trap him between the wall of the oriel and his own body with this clever move.

“Uhm, I really should go back to my duties,” he tried, trying to rise to his feet, but Blondel looked so disappointed that he slumped down on his backside again. “I won't keep you away from my king for too long, Erik,” Blondel assured him, his intensive gaze never leaving Erik's flushed face. “Just tell me a little bit about you.”

Erik swallowed, the heavy wine he had gulped down making him feel dizzy. He opened his mouth and listened to his own babbling as if he was watching himself from the distance, and he didn't object when Blondel filled his mug again. He was thirsty, and two mugs of wine wouldn't do any harm.

Blondel listened to him, a small smile ghosting around his sensitive lips as he did so, and Erik thought that he could understand why Richard loved him that much. The minstrel was of a beguiling male beauty, and he gave Erik the feelings as if he was the most beautiful and fascinating being himself as he looked at him and listened to him the way he did. He swallowed, smiling sheepishly at the attractive and somewhat dangerous older man. Erik wasn't really drunk, but his exhaustion, his confusion and the wine together were a heavy mixture, and before he knew what he was doing, he had leaned against Blondel's shoulder.

“You must think that I am only a silly young boy,” he tried to joke, but Blondel didn't laugh, only wrapped his arm around him to pull him even closer, brushing one soft light-brown strand out of his face.

“I don't think that you are a silly young boy, at all, Erik. Quite the opposite. I think that you are a wonderful young man, and even more desirable and beautiful as I thought you to be watching you from the distance,” the king's minstrel murmured close to his ear, and when Erik turned his head to gape at him in utter surprise, Blondel's lips closed over his own to silence him with a hot, passionate kiss.

 

_View from the tower of Castle Thanstein to Castle Grafendahn in the middle of the three castles built directly next to each other:_

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhm yes, another cliffhanger. Evil me couldn't resist to reward you for all of your nice cliffhangers with another one... (Hides behind her laptop again).  
> I should probably hurry with the next chapter, shouldn't I? ;-P


	9. May 1193: In The Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blondel has kissed Erik. Will Erik fall for the handsome and mysterious minstrel? Or will he resist him and tell Richard what has happened? And what will Richard do if he learns about this kiss?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Arrested, I hope that this pretty long chapter will lift your mood and revive your spirits, I did my best to let this happen. :-)  
> The song I listened to while writing this chapter is: 'Pearl in a world of dirt' from the German symphonic metal band 'beyond the black'.

After Blondel had left him, Richard found himself incapable of sitting down and relaxing, and so he started pacing up and down in his living room instead, something he hadn't had to do as oftentimes within the last months as he had done it at the beginning of his imprisonment, which lasted much longer than only his time on Castle Trifels by now. If Blondel had come to free him during his stay in Austria as Leopold's prisoner, Richard wouldn't have hesitated for only one second.

But, as things stood, he was Heinrich's hostage now, and the emperor was far more powerful than the Austrian duke. Next month, there would be another court council, and Richard would have to agree to the younger ruler's conditions there – if he didn't try to escape beforehand, that is.

The English monarch of course understood why his long-term friend and companion thought that he had become a coward, but cowardice wasn't the reason why he was so reluctant to agree to Blondel's plans and try to flee.

It wasn't his own life he feared for, but the lives of those he would have to leave behind and who would have to suffer the consequences if he really made it back to England without being caught again. Even if Heinrich would catch him again, Robert of Lindelborn, his squire Marian and all his other charges would still get punished for having let him slip away from underneath their hands, and Richard wasn't so sure whether or not he wanted to take over the responsibility for that.

Especially when it came to one special young man.

Erik of Thanstein.

At first, right after his arrival on Castle Trifels, when the young son of an for Richard unimportant and unknown baron had stumbled before his eyes and right into his life, the king of England had only chosen him as his personal guard and squire to affront all those arrogant and stupid minions crawling to Heinrich's feet, but he had soon realized how lucky he had been with his choice.

Erik of Thanstein was a real gem among all the stupid, conceited and impudent aristocrats Richard had met so far, and he was the only one who made his forced stay on the proud imperial castle not only bearable, but also even pleasurable now and then. The young squire with the beautiful hazel-green eyes and the cute dimples in his cheeks was humble and honest by nature, caring and never intrusive, and he served Richard with all his heart, his only striving to see to Richard's comfort and well-being without furtively hoping for any other reward than his king's approving smile.

Richard had never met anyone like Erik beforehand, someone, who seemed to truly care about him as the lonely man he actually was most of the times, and not only about his position as an important and powerful ruler like all the other court members did, here on Castle Trifels and the European continent as much as in England. Even Blondel, his true friend, saw more the ruler in him who was needed by his people than the man Richard most of the times.

Richard Plantagenet, king of England and called the Lionheart, had fallen in love with the sweet young man who served him with so much passion, and the mere thought of what would happen to him if Richard escaped from his luxury prison made him shiver.

The king sighed as he turned around at the other side of the large room to make his way back to the door over the thick carpet, when said door suddenly was opened and the young man occupying his thoughts and feelings appeared in the doorway, ruffled, white like snow and breathing heavily.

Richard stepped forward and reached out with his hand, but just when he wanted to ask what had happened, one of the twins became visible behind Erik's trembling figure.

“Your squire has obviously drunk too much, your majesty,” he said, “shall I bring him to another room and see to you getting another servant for tonight?”

Richard frowned, because to him, Erik didn't look drunk but more as if he had seen a ghost, and the expression of fear mixed with something he couldn't quite detect made him shake his head. “No, it's fine, thank you. It is understandable that this young knave has drunk a little bit too much after his first victory, and I can handle the situation on my own. Erik wouldn't be the first drunk man I've taken care of.”

“But, you are the king of...” the blond guard - most likely Sven - tried, and Richard gazed at him with the strictness he reserved for such occasions. “I told you that we will be fine, guard. Go back to your duties and don't worry about my well-being. It would be more disturbed by another servant I don't know, at all.”

Sven bowed before him. “As you wish, your highness,” he murmured, closing the door behind him with obvious reluctance. Richard was grateful for the thick walls that would keep the things spoken in this room where they belonged, and he now stepped forward and reached out to lay his hand under Erik's chin and take a closer look at him.

“Erik, what has happened to you? Is something wrong with your sister? Is something wrong with her baby?” he asked, urgently, and Erik blinked, confused and as if he was waking up from a dream.

“Lisa?” he mumbled, blinking again. “No, my sister is fine, sire. I'm sorry for bursting into your room like this, it was only because...” Erik went silent, swallowing audibly, and then, he surprised Richard by suddenly dropping down to his knees and kissing the hem of the royal coat Richard hadn't taken off his shoulders so far.

“I'm so sorry, your majesty, I didn't mean to betray you! I know how much you love him, and I really didn't mean to... I will accept each punishment you'll see fit for me, and I will never come near him again, I'll swear to you, but please, your majesty, I really didn't want to...” Erik started to sob, and Richard stared down at him with a dropped jaw and totally taken aback.

“Erik, for God's sake, what are you talking about?”

 

***

 

Erik neither knew how he had managed to get away from the blond minstrel, nor how he had found his way back to the king's rooms, and he resisted the urge to scratch his lips where he could still feel Blondel's kiss until they would bleed and he would have erased each memory of what he had done only a couple of minutes ago with that.

He had betrayed his beloved lionheart, had kissed the man who belonged to Richard, only, and it didn't matter that he hadn't wanted to do that, at all. The English sovereign would hold him responsible for this kiss, and he would certainly punish him and send him away.

Richard the Lionheart was a kind and reasonable ruler, but he was also a proud man, and he wouldn't take it well if someone tried to take what he considered his and his only, like his long missed lover for example.

The son of the Baron of Thanstein hadn't even thought of trying to hide what he had just done from his admired king, after pushing Blondel away from him and storming out of his room, he had run like hell through the gloomy corridors, and only Sven stepping in his way had kept him from just storming into Richard's living room. Robert's skilled fighter luckily hadn't drawn the right conclusions, he had simply thought that Erik had forgotten about his duties and drunk too much, and now, he knelt before his king to get the punishment he truly deserved for his betrayal.

The king had just asked him what was going on, and Erik knew that he had to tell him everything but first, he needed to apologize again. “I'm so sorry, your majesty, I am really sorry, it will never happen again, I swear to you...” he sobbed, just to be pulled up onto his feet rather forcefully. Erik stumbled forward and right into the king's arms, and he instinctively snuggled close to the strong body that seemed to offer the shelter he craved for so badly...

“Erik, stop being silly and behaving like this! There is no need to call me 'your majesty' when we're alone, and I want you to take deep breaths, calm down and tell me what has happened, understood?” Richard said, taking his arms in a firm grip to gently push him away a little bit and look at him, and Erik nodded his head and inhaled with a sniff.

“He – he kissed me. I didn't want that, but he was too fast, and I couldn't react in time... I must have done something he must have misunderstood and which made him think that I am interested in him... I know that you love him, and I will never let him kiss me again, I swear...” he stammered, and Richard heaved an exasperate sigh.

“Erik, you're talking in riddles, Who has kissed you?” he growled, impatiently, and Erik flinched back, trying to pull his arms out of Richard's tight grip. He had known it that the king would be angry with him, so why was he so surprised now?

“Blondel. Your minstrel Blondel, the man you love and whom you wanted to stay abstinent for, the reason why you declined Robert's offer. He has kissed me. I am so sorry, your majes... sire. I'll accept each punishment but please, don't send me away from you...”

Richard stared at him with narrowed eyes, and Erik could feel his fury and anger coming off in waves from him.

The son of the Baron of Thanstein swallowed again and straightened his shoulders to await his punishment.

 

***

 

Blondel had kissed his sweet Erik.

Richard's vision blurred with the anger and hurt he felt about his friend's betrayal, especially after Blondel promising him to not do anything stupid. The English monarch knew exactly why his clever and sometimes rather devious friend had made a move on the innocent young man, not because of a sudden and strong passion he felt for Erik, but to drive a wedge between Erik and him. If Erik fell in love with another man, Richard could be convinced to flee from Castle Trifels much easier, at least in Blondel's opinion.

If Erik thought that Richard loved Blondel, he would maybe even let himself be persuaded to help Blondel and conspire with him just to make Richard happy.

The thought of Erik having wanted to kiss the blond bard didn't even cross Richard's mind, because he knew for sure that the young man who had trapped his heart and who returned his feelings with the same passion would never have done something like this, and this wasn't what made Richard feeling this angry.

No, the king of England was furious about what his friend had tried to do, not so much about Blondel's wish to free Richard at all cost – even against his will – but that he had taken advantage of Erik's confusion and his somewhat defenseless state, and that he had made Erik blaming himself for Blondel's deed and believing that he had betrayed his king.

His young knave didn't deserve to be a pawn in the hands of any of the more powerful noblemen here on Castle Trifels, and he definitely didn't deserve to be Blondel's or Richard's puppet.

Not to mention that Richard was truly upset about his friend having kissed his young knave, the man Richard loved more than anything.

“He has kissed you?” he heard himself snarl, and Erik bit his lip and nodded his head, subdued. “Yes, I am so sorry for that, your highn...” Richard's glance silenced him again. “I told you to not call me like that when we're alone, young knave! Plus, it's not you who has to be sorry for what he has done. I know quite well who should be sorry for all of this! I don't know where you have gotten the impression from that Blondel is more for me than my friend, but I can assure you that this is not true. It's not him I'm in love with.”

“He's not?” Erik unconsciously licked over his still red and swollen lips, right where Blondel had left his mark upon them, and before Richard knew what he was doing, he pressed his own mouth onto Erik's soft lips, determined to erase each and every trace of the other man's touch and claim them as his own rightful territory. He would leave his own mark upon him and make sure that Erik would forget about the other kiss, completely.

 

***

 

Richard's lips were so warm and smooth, tender and passionate at the same time and so demanding.

Erik's second kiss in this fateful night felt totally different from the first kiss, and Erik realized soon the reason for this: his love for Richard made these two kisses feel so different.

Blondel might be a skilled and experienced kisser, but Erik didn't feel anything for him despite mistrust, jealousy and maybe some kind of unwilling admiration, but, he didn't love him, at all.

His love was reserved for his lionheart, only, and this would never change. Erik wrapped his arms around Richard's broad back without thinking and returned the passionate kiss as if his life depended on it. He knew that they shouldn't do this, after all, Richard was a king and he only an unimportant young squire, but Richard's kiss didn't make him feel unimportant, quite the opposite. It made him feel loved and desired, and Erik kissed his king back with all the love he felt for him.

Richard's tongue had found its way into the sweet cavern of his mouth, and Erik let him explore it and claim every spot within his reach, shyly starting to discover the secrets awaiting him behind the soft lips moving over his own himself. The older man let him do it without objection, only pulled Erik's lithe body as close to his own hard and strong one as only possible. Their hands had begun to wander over their backs and flanks, stroking, kneading and caressing each other over their clothing.

His blood was rushing faster through his veins and Erik's entire body felt like being on fire as he let the sensation of this incredible kiss wash over him. Nothing had ever felt and tasted so good, and he couldn't hold back the sounds of pleasure, ardor and longing that wanted to flee his throat. “We shouldn't do that,” he heard himself whisper, but his tongue pushed back into Richard's mouth, and the taller man's hand moved downwards to cup and knead his backside when he gave back, huskily: “no, we shouldn't...” without breaking their passionate kiss. Instead, he started to walk towards his bedroom, and Erik had no other choice than to step back and let his lionheart guide him to the splendid chamber where they would be more comfortable. “We really shouldn't do this,” he murmured again in the weak attempt to stay reasonable, but his feet didn't obey his brain's order and stopped, just stumbled backwards, eagerly.  
“I know, my sweet young knave,” Richard purred at his lips, burying his left hand in Erik's soft light-brown hair to kiss him again while the right hand on his hip made sure that his prey wouldn't hit the door frame when he stepped over the threshold to enter the bedroom.

The young squire had of course been there before, because helping Richard to dress was one of his duties, and Erik had always wanted to see to the king's bedclothes and clean this special room, personally. The thought of nosy maids or servants doing this and maybe even trying to steal Richard's comb or some of his belongings had made him insist on being the only one allowed to enter this room except for Richard himself, and only his lord Robert came here now and then to examine the royal hostage's chambers.

But, it felt strange to enter it now with Richard gently pushing him towards the bed and holding him close while he kissed him that passionately, and the sight of the huge and cozy bed was somewhat frightening all of a sudden. Erik loved and desired Richard with every cell of his body and soul, but he was still innocent when it came to the pleasures of being intimate with another person, especially with another, much more experienced man, and his steps faltered before the king could press him down onto it. It was only for the split of a second, but Richard had noticed his reluctance, nevertheless, and he drew back from his lips to caress Erik's deep red, swollen lips with his thumb and look at him.

The English monarch was an impressive and breathtaking sight as Erik uncertainly gazed back, his brown eyes dark with his desire, his thick, slightly wavy hair tousled where Erik's fingers had carded through them during their kisses. “I won't hurt you, Erik,” Richard said, and his gaze left no doubt that he meant what he had said. “Nothing will happen that you don't want to happen.” The king didn't try to push him, but simply looked at him as he gave Erik the time to make up his mind, and after one more moment, Erik nodded his head and smiled at him.

“I trust you, sire.”

 

***

 

A low growl escaped Richard's lips when he heard Erik say these four little words, spoken with so much honesty and trust. “Thank you, darling,” he replied, his long, elegant fingers traveling over the handsome and still so youthful male features of his innocent lover with rapt devotion.

The English monarch had never been the one using petnames and tender words with ease and lightheartedly, but it felt right and natural to call Erik 'darling', and the sweet blush painting his young knave's softly rounded cheeks proved to him that Erik loved it just as much. “You're so beautiful, Erik, so beautiful!” he said, dwelling in the feeling of the warm and smooth, fragrant skin underneath his fingers. Erik's slight stubble tickled his fingertips, and it seemed to shoot right into his groin. It had been a rather long time since he had last shared intimate pleasures with someone, and his long suppressed desire for the trembling young man in his arms broke free with overwhelming force. He was hard and aching ever since his lips had touched Erik's, and the pressure against his hipbone was a clear sign that the handsome squire longed for his touch and his kisses with the same need.

The English sovereign wasn't a beginner when it came to such things, and he had noticed Erik's hesitation, instantly. Not that he wouldn't have needed a proof of the brunet being innocent and shy and uncertain about lying together with another man, Erik's innocence had never been a question for Richard. It was obvious that he needed time, patience and tender ministration to lose his reservations and his fears, and apart from that, this was not the night to take the young man's virginity, at all, not after the happenings of the day and Blondel's wicked games.

But, they could enjoy each other's company without going that far, and Richard was determined to do this and reward Erik for winning the tournament in a way that would be pleasurable for both of them. The king was aware of Marian having lost the last competition on purpose, even though he was sure that Erik didn't know that, but Erik had fought well, and he deserved to be courted, cherished and loved more than any other person in this world.

Richard hadn't wanted to admit his feelings, hoping that Erik would get over his love and adoration for him again, but Blondel had made it impossible for him to do that and maybe, this had been what his clever friend had wanted. He must have at least suspected that Erik wouldn't hide this kiss from his king, and he had left him no other choice than to admit to Erik that his love was returned.

The king of England pushed the thought of his dear friend and unexpected rival back into the farthest corner of his mind and focused on Erik again, pulling him close to gently kiss his forehead. “I just want to feel you lying next to me, love, to kiss you and to hold you,” he said, and Erik's shy smile lit up the rather dark room. “I want that, too, sire,” he confessed, his blush deepening because of his boldness.

“Richard, Erik, it's Richard for you when we're alone!” Richard told him, strictly, and the eyes of his young knave became big rounds. “But, you are the king of England, and I am your squire... I can't just call you Richard!” he objected, confused, and the king smiled, sadly. “Of course, you can, darling, even more because I've told you to do so.”

“But...It wouldn't be appropriate...” Erik swallowed, still unsure.

Richard cupped his cheeks with his hands to look him in the eyes. “Tell me, Erik, do you love me, the man Richard, or do you love the king of England?” he asked, keeping his face impassive although he could read the answer in the hazel-green depths staring back at him.

“The man Richard.” Erik hadn't hesitated for even one second, and his voice was filled with honesty and deep love. “But, the man Richard and the king of England are the same person,” he tried to explain his confusion, then, “the man Richard is the one making the king the kind and wise ruler he actually is. The one can't be without the other, isn't that so?”

Now, it was Richard who had to swallow against the lump in his throat, because he couldn't remember having ever gotten such a wonderful and honest compliment, simple but coming right from Erik's heart.

“Thank you, love,” he whispered, pressing Erik close and stroking his hair. Erik buried his face on his shoulder and for a while, they simply stood there, holding each other tight and savoring their closeness. Finally, Richard laid his hand under his chin to look at him again. “I know what you mean, darling, and you're right, the man Richard and the king are the same person. But, I know for sure that you will never be disrespectful or try to take advantage of my feelings for you for your own good. Of course, we'll have to keep up appearances when others will be around and I know that you will always do that but, will you please do me the favor and let me be just the man Richard when we're alone for a while? Just Richard? Will you call me Richard and let me hear my name coming from your lips instead of reminding me of my status and responsibilities the entire time by calling me 'sire' or 'your highness'? Do you think you can do that for me, Erik?”

Erik gazed at him, and Richard's heart started to race when the young man reached out to mirror his gesture and cup his cheek, as well. “Yes, Richard, I can do that for you. I love you and I want you to be happy and comfortable,” he said, sincerely, carefully taking the royal red coat from Richard's shoulders to reveal the astonishing man underneath and let the impressive king be just a simple man deeply in love for a while.

 

***

 

The mattress underneath his back was so much softer and cozier than any other mattress Erik had ever lain upon, and Richard's strong body warmed his front like no blanket had ever warmed him. They were still dressed with their linen shirts and trousers they wore as their underwear, and Erik was grateful for the older man's understanding and patience. Richard held him close without giving him the feeling of being trapped, and his kisses tasted sweeter than the sweetest wine Erik had ever tasted. The English sovereign was well-shaved, Erik had seen to that this morning himself, but after the long hours that had passed since them, the slight stubble grew once more, and it left a pleasant burning on his own still rather smooth cheeks as Richard explored his mouth again and again, showing Erik the wonders and miracles loving and passionate kisses exchanged between true lovers could be. He let his own tongue wander around, mirroring the king's movements, licking and teasing the sensitive spots that made his skilled lover moan with ardor and longing, and his heart sang in his chest with happiness and amazement while he lost all track of time and forget everything else.

Erik hadn't noticed Richard's hand slipping under the fastenings of his trousers during their kisses, and when he finally did because of the warm and curious fingers grazing over his naked skin right where his pubic hair covered his most private parts, he gasped out and tensed up. “Hush, darling, let me do this for you, please. Nothing else will happen, but please, let me pleasure you this way...” Richard murmured, nibbling at his lips, and Erik swallowed and relaxed again. His own fingers were buried in Richard's thick, shoulder-long hair, and he could feel the king's strong desire pressing against his thigh, covered only by a thin layer of white linen.

“It should be me pleasuring you, sire,” he whispered, feeling red heat coloring his face once more. The word 'sire' had just slipped from his lips, and Erik realized that it would take some time until he would be brave enough to call his adored lionheart by his birth name without hesitation.

Richard's lips traveled from his jaw to his ear. “Richard, darling. Say my name!” he breathed against his burning skin while his hand started to move further down until it reached Erik's rock-hard shaft. The head was already wet with Erik's strong desire and arousal, and his hips jerked upwards and into the touch to their own will. “Richard...oooooohhhh!” he moaned, helplessly, as the sensation of from holding a sword and the reins of a horse calloused fingers wrapping themselves around his manhood erased every coherent thought that might still have been somewhere in his mind.

“Ah, yes love, just like that. Say it again, say my name!” Richard ordered, hoarsely, and Erik obeyed and moaned again. “Richard!”

“You are wonderful, my sweet Erik, tell me if this feels good.” Richard sounded pleased, and he teased Erik's throbbing cock with a few, tender caresses.

“Uuuhhh, sooo good. But, I-I shou... should be the one doing that for you...” Stars exploded before Erik's closed eyelids because Richard had found exactly the right pace and pressure when he had begun to stroke him that threatened to drive him crazy and to the very edge of his self-control right away.

“No, you shouldn't, love. This is your day, and I have longed to do this for you for so long, so please let me pleasure you, my wonderful Erik. You are such a beautiful and desirable young man, you could have everyone you want to have, and that you have chosen me of all people, being so much older than you and much less beautiful is a true miracle for me,” Richard murmured at his ear, making Erik gasp out in surprise. He turned his head to look his admired king deep in his wonderful eyes now dilated with desire and his deep emotions. Erik was sure that he had never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life than his lionheart's face suffused with his passion and desire he felt for him, his features soft, his lips swollen from their kisses and his eyes filled with tenderness and love.

“You are the most beautiful being walking on earth, Richard, the most wonderful man I've ever met and will ever meet. I will never love anybody else as much as I love you, and I will never stop loving you!” he whispered with all the sincerity and honesty he had, and Richard's tender smile was like the golden sun warming him after the long and cold winters that made him freeze from the inside all day and night long until spring finally came back, chasing the horrible cold away again.

“I love you, too, Erik. You're so precious, words can't express how precious you are to me, love.” Richard's lips closed over his own in another passionate kiss, and his hand started moving again, up and down on his aching member so deliciously and wonderfully that it didn't take long until Erik's feelings overwhelmed him and he spilled his ecstasy into the warm and tender fingers caressing him through his height. “Oh, Richard!” he cried out, clinging to the taller man's broad shoulders because he really needed something to hold on to as the burning waves of pleasure coursed through him with violent force.

“Yes, darling, show me your pleasure!” The king of England encouraged him, dabbing heated kisses all over his face and purring gently into his ear. “Show me how much you want me.”

Erik arched his back one last time with the subsiding sensations of his breathtaking climax before he slumped down again, panting and trying to catch his breath. He could feel Richard wiping away the mess he had made with some cloth, maybe one of the blankets, but he was too tired to really care about having to clean it the next day. His body was heavy with exhaustion and satisfaction, and only his desire to do the same for the man he loved so much made him open his eyes again. “I want to do the same for you, Richard,” he murmured, drowsily, but the king shook his hand and stroked his cheek.

“That is not necessary, love. I've found my pleasure in yours,” he assured his young knave with a tender smile. “But, I really want to...” Erik objected, even though his eyelids started to drop.

“And I want to you to sleep now, Erik. You don't want to disobey your king's order, do you, young knave?” Richard gazed strictly at him, and Erik snickered and pulled his head down for another sweet kiss.

“Of course not, my beloved lionheart!” he said, snuggling close to Richard's strong frame to obey his king's order and fall asleep with a happy smile curling on his lips.

 

_View on Castle Thanstein and Castle Grafendahn from the highest tower of Castle Altendahn:_

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No cliffhanger and more than 5000 words of sweetness (hopefully), I'm quite proud of myself. :-D  
> Richard has started to 'ruin' Erik in the best way possible, just like you have requested, but it wouldn't have felt right to let them sleep with each other right away, I hope you agree with me here. Besides, I'm a sucker for good hand jobs, and Erik has obviously enjoyed getting it as much as I enjoyed writing it... ;-P


	10. June 1193: After The Tournament

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June has come to Castle Trifels and Erik and Richard would like to enjoy their blooming love, if there weren't their concerns about what Blondel is up to and about the court council in Worms at the end of June...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, this chapter somehow took me ages to write, and I am not that happy with the result, I hope it is not too boring. It is more or less about two talks only, and yes, evil me came back and decided that another cliffhanger at the end was in order. I will try to hurry with the next chapter, but I am slow when it comes to writing at the moment, and I have to see to my other original work and maybe updating one of my Stargate stories at first. 
> 
> I hope you will enjoy this chapter, nonetheless. <333

“You still haven't forgiven me, my king Richard.” Blondel leaned against Richard's fireplace in his usual posture, his amber-golden eyes fixed on the sovereign's impassive face.

June had come a couple of days after the tournament, bringing more sun and warmth with it, but the thick walls of the imperial castle kept the early summer heat outside, and Erik had seen to the fire not burning out before he had left his king to get another lesson with the sword.

Robert of Lindelborn had always trained him personally within the last couple days, and Richard knew the reason for the earl's decision without Robert having to tell him. He had mused about insisting on watching Erik's lessons as the skilled and experienced warrior he was himself but had eventually decided against it. It wouldn't lead him anywhere to make Robert his enemy and fire on his mistrust, and he had ordered Blondel into his private living room to talk to him instead. They had talked before, but Richard had been only short-spoken and terse during their previous talks, and Blondel had known him well enough to not push the issue and annoy him any further.

His bard had sung for him and entertained him with funny stories from his journey, pretending to not sense Richard's annoyance, and he also hadn't mentioned his plans to free him again, even though Richard knew for sure that his close friend hadn't given up on them. Blondel had also avoided to only mention Erik's name in Richard's presence, and he had ignored the young squire as best as he could when Erik had been around without being insulting. Erik had done the same, making sure to leave at least two meters of distance between them, and he had shyly asked for permission to spend time with his sister to body-swerve Blondel as best best as he could. Fabian of Lewenberc had agreed to his pregnant wife's wish to stay on Castle Trifels for a couple of weeks after the English sovereign had invited them to extend their visit, personally and in the most charming way, and Richard had allowed Erik to spend as much time with Lady Lisa as he could without neglecting his duties too much, gladly.

Seeing the joy and happiness in the most beautiful eyes he had ever had the pleasure to look into was what made Richard happy, too, and he had seen to Lisa and Fabian of Lewenberc joining them at their private dining table a lot of times, enjoying their company more than he would have thought it possible. Fabian being Marian's brother had led to Marian and Robert dining with them, as well, and Robert's grudging approval to the royal hostage's move had amused Richard.

Inviting the earl's first squire to having dinner with him without inviting the earl himself would have been incredibly impolite, and this way, Richard had proved to Robert that he was more than capable of playing the games one had to play if they belonged to the king's or the emperor's court. Robert wanted to observe and watch him and Blondel more closely? Fine, Richard had provided him with the opportunity to do so without Robert actually being able to act too openly, because worrying and upsetting a pregnant lady, even more when she was his second squire's sister and his first squire's and lover's sister-in-law was out of the question.

Richard had even gone that far to ask Blondel to sing for them during these private dinners in his living room, being all cooperative and giving the dark-haired earl the chance to learn more about his minstrel and dear friend. Not, that Blondel had allowed anyone getting much insight into his feelings and intentions, even not Richard himself, because Blondel had reached true mastery when it came to playing such games himself. He had only been the loyal bard he was for most of the people he had to deal with, singing his wistful songs and playing the harp with so much skills that none of the listeners could stay untouched. If there hadn't been the hidden appraising glances he had shot in Erik's and Richard's direction now and then, Richard would have believed him his innocent and harmless behavior himself.

Richard doubted that Blondel had been able to deceive Robert, though, and he knew that the earl kept a close eye on Blondel, Erik and he himself during the days and the nights, either he himself or by ordering some of his best fighters to do so.

“You had promised me to not do anything stupid and yet, you've broken your promise only a few minutes later, minstrel. What kind of reaction did you expect coming from me? Approval?” Richard asked back, watching his friend from where he was seated at the short side of the large wooden table in his private living room. The English monarch would have liked to stand and pace up and down, but he didn't want to show Blondel the state he was in, although he suspected that his friend and confident could see right through his unmoved and carefree appearance easily enough. They might have not seen each other for years, but that hadn't diminished Blondel's skills when it came to knowing what was going on in Richard's mind and heart.

Blondel pursed his lips. “Considering what came out of it, I wouldn't call it stupid, at all,” he remarked, tilting his head to the side as he watched the king with attentive amber-golden eyes.

Richard narrowed his own at him. “I thought that I had made myself clear when I'd told you that I didn't want Erik to know about my feelings for him.”

“You had, my king, but you have to admit that you are much happier and more relaxed ever since your young knave has run back to you to tell you what I'd done and you therefore had been forced to reveal your feelings for him because of my 'stupid' behavior.” Blondel didn't look much affected by Richard's angry glare, and only him staying where he was in an appropriate distance and standing instead of coming to the table to sit down without Richard's explicit permission – something he had never cared about in private before – was a sign that he was wary and knew that he had overstepped a line. “Even though I truly doubt that things have progressed as far between the two of you as most people would think that they have done at this point,” the blond bard added after a short pause, musingly.

“This is none of your business, Blondel!” Richard heard himself snapping before he could hold the words back, “care to tell me why you have gone against my explicit wishes and kissed Erik only to make me confess my love to him?”

“Because you only wanted to keep your feelings a secret for your squire's sake, and not for your own, Richard. You should know by now that your well-being means more to me than the well-being of anybody else despite our people who suffer without you, deeply. You being happy and satisfied here on Castle Trifels during your captivity even if it might be only for a couple of weeks is all that matters to me. Erik truly loves you, and he is obviously the one making you happy, so I made sure that you would get what you actually want and what you need. If it also means you being angry with me, then so be it. Besides, Erik is a beautiful and desirable, sweet young man, and I have eyes in my head...” Blondel gave back, and Richard had to admire his courage. No one had ever dared to challenge him this way before, telling him quite frankly that they wanted for themselves what Richard considered his and his alone.

Richard unconsciously balled his fists in his lap, unclenching them with a deep breath when he realized what he was doing. “Erik will never love you back!” he snarled, feeling deeply hurt by the thought that the man he had trusted the most until this day – even after what he had done a couple of nights before – apparently thought of taking the wonderful young man he loved away from him.

Blondel's face softened. “Of course not, my king Richard. That was never a question, and if it ever was, then my kiss has only helped him to make up his mind. I would never betray you like this, you should know that. As I told you, your well-being is more important to me than anything, and this includes my own well-being, as well. Erik and I have actually a lot in common, we both care about your happiness more than about our own, my king Richard.”

The bard's words hung in the air, and the king of England needed a moment to realize what Blondel had just confessed without saying it out loud. “You've never told me,” he finally whispered, dismayed, asking himself how he could have missed his friend's true feelings for him over the years. Blondel had always been one of his closest friends – his best friend to be honest - but nothing more, and this might have been the reason for his blindness. Richard hadn't wanted to see the true nature of Blondel's love for him, so he hadn't seen it. Now, he also knew why Erik had thought that Blondel and him were lovers, his young knave had sensed that his bard loved Richard and therefore thought that there was more than only friendship between them. “How can that be? You know me better than anyone, you know all of my dark secrets!” he asked, swallowing hard.

Blondel shrugged, finally coming to the table. He waited until Richard gave him permission to sit down with a short nod, pulling one of the chairs at Richard's left side to sit down. “Loving you is easy enough, Richard,” he said, gently, “but I've always known that you would never return my feelings; and your friendship has always been too precious to me to risk damaging it for a few nights of pleasure you might have wanted to share with me when you have felt lonely and needed some comfort. My only desire is your happiness, and your beautiful young squire is making you happy, so I won't step in between you as long as our people won't have to suffer more because of your love than they're already doing because of your captivity. You have all the rights to be loved and get what you need – what all of us human beings need, Richard. I know that Erik loves you with all his heart and that he will suffer when you'll have to leave him, but he is young and strong enough to get over his heartache. You on the other hand have to be careful whom you gift your love with, and your forced stay here as Heinrich VI.'s prisoner might be your last chance in a very long time to enjoy the miracles of true love.” The expression in his eyes was honest and sincere, and Richard felt his anger fade away by the realization of what his friend was willing to endure just to see him happy, namely Richard being in love and sharing intimacy with another man right before his eyes.

The English monarch reached out without thinking, taking Blondel's hand to squeeze it, gently. “Thank you, my friend,” he said, hoarsely, and Blondel's answering smile eased his bad conscience a little bit. “You have achieved what you wanted, you won't make another move on Erik in any way, understood?” Richard returned to his most pressing concern. “I don't want having to worry about you luring him into conspiring with you to free me, Blondel!”

The bard's features were impassive again when he looked at his king and said: “You have my word on me not luring Erik into helping me to free you, my king Richard.” His voice was as honest as it had been before when he had confessed the true nature of his love to him, but Richard couldn't help but feel that he was missing something important about this promise, and he could only hope that this time, Blondel would keep his promise and not do anything stupid again.

 

***

 

The first half of June went by rather uneventfully, and Erik couldn't remember having ever been as happy as he was on these days, serving his beloved king and enjoying nights of passion and love with him. They still hadn't taken the final step, only shared kisses and tender caresses so far, and for the young squire, there was nothing more wonderful in this world than feeling Richard's warm body close to him and sensing his pleasure when Erik stroked him to completion. The trust his lionheart showed him when he gave himself to his young knave like Richard liked to call him, turning from the impressive ruler to the vulnerable man in love touched Erik deeply every time it happened, and he knew that he would never take this trust for granted and something he deserved just like that without earning it every single day.

The young aristocrat was grateful that the older man was patient enough to wait for him being ready for the final step, and he didn't know what it was keeping him from wanting it so far, because he desired and loved Richard the Lionheart with every fiber of his being.

Maybe, it was because of Blondel, Richard's friend and confident and his own rival. Erik believed Richard that there was nothing more between them than friendship, but he could see that Blondel loved his king the same way Erik loved him; and this knowledge left him wary and incapable of relaxing enough to give himself to the love of his life, completely and without any doubt.

The blond bard hadn't tried to come closer to him again, keeping an appropriate distance to him, but Erik could feel the attentive and musing gaze of his amber-golden eyes upon his face and his back more oftentimes than he would have felt comfortable with, and he lay awake at night more than only a couple of times, asking himself what kind of plans Blondel might have in mind.

Normally, the feeling of Richard's strong arms holding and protecting him was enough to make him feel safe and fall asleep but sometimes, the premonition of the minstrel trying to take Richard away from him at all cost was too strong to ignore it and Erik had to climb out of the large king's bed then, sitting down on the bench in the small alcove next to the fireplace in the king's living room and looking out of the window and watching the sparkling stars for hours. He always managed to crawl back beside the man he loved so much before Richard would wake up and notice his absence, but those sleepless nights took their toll on him, and Robert's thoughtful gaze after another due to his tiredness rather poor performance during their training sessions proved to him that his inner struggles didn't go unnoticed. The earl hadn't said anything so far, but it was only a matter of time, Erik knew that quite well.

“I am almost glad that we'll have to leave for Worms in a couple of days,” he remarked after one of his lessons when he was busied with cleaning his armor and his sword together with Marian. The shorter brunet eyed him from the side with a strange expression on his face. “You are? Really? I don't think that you will get the opportunity to enjoy some time alone with your king in Worms,” he gave back in a quiet voice after glancing around to make sure that no one was listening to them. Marian looked as if he felt pretty uncomfortable, and this made Erik watching his friend more closely. “Is there anything you know our lord hasn't told me, Marian?” he demanded, and the other squire bit his lip as he focused on his weapon, refusing to look at Erik. “No, there isn't, Erik,” he objected after a rather long silence, “but, Robert is still mistrustful when it comes to Blondel, and I am sure that he will see to the necessary precautions to make sure that our journey will go smoothly and undisturbed.”

Erik could sense that there was more behind his friend's words, but he didn't push him, being aware of the secrets he kept from Marian himself. “Of course, he will,” he only agreed, pausing in what he was doing to look at the young man who had become his best friend over the past weeks. “I am mistrustful when it comes to Blondel myself. I know that he truly cares about the king, but it is clear that he wants him to go back to England as soon as only possible. Which isn't likely in the near future, because of the huge amount of money our emperor wants Richard to pay for the things he's accused of. I'm sure that these accusations are not true and only meant to keep Richard his hostage and diminish his power.”

Marian flinched. “You should be more careful with what you say about our emperor, Erik!” he told him off, but without much emphasis. At the beginning, the other squire hadn't really liked the English sovereign, thinking that he deserved what he had gotten, but this had changed due to the time Marian had spent in Richard's company and the way the monarch treated his adored older brother Fabian and his sister-in-law Lisa. The private dinners Marian had been invited to had obviously changed Marian's opinion about the king of England, and the few things about their blooming relationship Erik had shared with him must also have proved to the other brunet that he had been wrong about Richard's character. Erik hadn't told him much, but Marian was his best friend and in love with an older and of higher rank man himself, and Erik really needed someone he could talk to now and then. Marian would keep them as confidential as he kept the things Marian told him about his relationship with Robert to himself, and he knew that his friend was happy for him despite his doubts and worries about Erik loving the emperor's royal hostage. Richard probably knew about their talks, because after their first night, he had asked Erik from where he had known about Robert's offer to see to someone warming the king's bed, and Erik had had no other choice than telling him that he had learned about it from Marian.

Richard hadn't been angry, only nodded his head. “I see, I thought so,” he had said and kissed Erik's forehead. “I hope that you know me well enough by now to not think that I would ever accept such an offer, darling.”

Erik had kissed him back and assured him that he did know that by now, and after that, Richard had changed the topic and never asked Erik about his talks with Marian. He had also assured him that Erik wouldn't need to worry about Blondel coming closer to him again, and the young squire had dared to relax a little bit whenever the strange minstrel was around after that. It wasn't that he didn't like him, quite the opposite. If Erik hadn't been in love with Richard, Blondel might have caused his heart to beat faster, after all, he was a good-looking and fascinating young man, and Erik even felt a strange connection to the bard, probably because they both loved Richard with all their hearts.

Erik only feared that Blondel would try to free Richard from his imprisonment and endanger him with that, and this kept him watching Blondel with eagle eyes when he entertained them with his beautiful songs. He had even dared to ask Richard to teach him English and French because he wanted to understand what Blondel was singing about and telling to his king when he used his mother tongue, and Richard had agreed to his request, touched and happily. They mostly practiced both languages sitting on the bench in the rose garden with Lisa joining them to learn English and French, as well, and Erik hoarded these precious and peaceful hours in his memory like a treasure.

“Yes, I know,” Erik now replied, pushing his memories aside, “but, Richard is the most powerful ruler after our emperor himself, and he should be treated as such and not having to pay for his freedom,” he couldn't help but object, causing Marian to raise one eyebrow at him. “You sound as if you wanted Richard to leave us, Erik. Are you thinking about going with him, even? You know that this won't be possible!” he cried out in dismay, ducking his head and lowering his voice when Erik scowled at him.

“Will you be quieter, Marian!” Erik glided a little bit closer to him. “And no, my heart of course doesn't want him to leave us. But, his people need him, and he doesn't deserve to be held as a prisoner!” he hissed through gritted teeth.

A shadow falling over them and the quiet voice of their lord suddenly speaking up made both of the young squires snap up their heads. “It is a good thing that the English sovereign will get the chance to defend himself in Worms, then. Our emperor Heinrich is a kind and fair ruler, and he will surely listen to king Richard with an open mind. I am convinced that his decision will be justified and to everybody's best.”

“Lord Robert!” Erik gasped out, paling while Marian beside him blushed, deeply. Both of them had forgotten that their earl was not only capable of approaching someone without making any sound but also called very sharp ears his own, and the expression in his eyes told Erik that the young earl must have heard at least half of his conversation with Marian. He blinked up at the dark-haired knight standing before them where they were sitting on a bench in the dusty courtyard, his arms crossed before his broad chest and his legs spread, slightly, his posture the posture of a man sure about himself and what he was doing.

“I'm sorry, Lord Robert,” he finally managed to mumble, and a brief smile crossed the earl's face. “Your loyalty towards Richard honors you, Erik. But, you should be more careful with wearing your heart on your sleeve like you're doing it oftentimes. One day, someone not being as inclined to overhear what you're saying like I am might listen to you.”

“I'm sorry,” Erik repeated, hanging his head, not only because Robert had caught them, but also to hide his defiance. The Earl of Lindelborn chuckled, knowing his second squire well enough to see right through him. “I'm sure you are. Not necessarily for what you've said, but more for having been caught.” His voice sounded amused, and Erik relaxed a little bit and gazed up at his superior.

“If you knew the king as well as I do...” he tried, but Robert silenced him with a gesture of his hand. “I can assure you that neither the English monarch nor me myself will ever want this to happen, young knave,” he stated, dryly, and the strangled sound coming from Marian was a clear sign that his friend would never want this to happen, either.

“But to spare you the discomfort of having to hold your tongue for days, I've decided that you won't accompany us to Worms, Erik. I need a man watching the blond minstrel while we're at the court council I can trust, fully, and Blondel seems to have developed a liking for you, so you will be my man here on Castle Trifels watching him while I will see to your king's well-being during our journey, personally.”

 

_The rock the three castles Thanstein, Grafendahn and Altdahn are built upon:_

  



	11. June 1193: Separated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robert has told Erik that he won't accompany his beloved king to Worms. But, what is the real reason for his decision? Truly only Erik's inability to watch his tongue? And what will Blondel do after Richard has left the castle without him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dear Arrested, I'm sorry for the delay and the shortness of the chapter, writing is a hard task for me at the moment. I hope you won't hate me and Robert too much after having read this, I don't have to tell you that the Middle Ages were hard times and that warriors like Robert sometimes had things to do they didn't want to do, at all. But, read yourself, I promise that Erik's and Richard's separation will come to an end in July again... ;-P

The sand of the sun-dried road covered everything and everyone with a thin layer of red dust, and Richard's stallion White Arrow pulled at the reins with an annoyed neigh as he tried to get the tickling crumbs out of his nostrils again.

The English sovereign soothed his loyal companion with a gentle but firm hand, resisting the urge to crane his head over his shoulder and take one last look back at the proud castle that sat enthroned on top of the mountain behind the small caravan.

Robert of Lindelborn's words were still echoing in his head, no matter how hard he tried to ignore them, and he had a hard time with keeping his face impassive and unmoved. But, he was the king of England, a brave crusader, and he wouldn't let anyone take a look behind his facade and know about his true feelings, his despair, fear and lovesickness for the kindest and most wonderful young man ever living in this cruel and unfriendly world.

Richard grabbed the reins of his horse tighter, and White Arrow neighed again, but the English sovereign kept his eyes on the dusty road, ignoring the questioning glances from his two guards Sven and Lars. He also didn't look back to the proud imperial castle that slowly disappeared behind the next mountain even though he craved to whisper a last goodbye back to his sweet young knave who was probably standing on one of the balconies to watch the travelers until they would be out of sight.

Richard the Lionheart held his head up high and his eyes stayed dry, showing only a hard and cold expression, but his heart cried with the unbearable pain of Robert's words repeating themselves in his mind all over again and again.

 

***

 

_“Erik won't accompany you to Worms, your highness. He will stay on Castle Trifels where he will be much safer, together with his sister Lady Lisa, of course.” The dark-haired earl's face had given nothing away, and Richard had found himself staring at the younger knight, incredulously. He was way too much an experienced politician himself to not realize, instantly, what Robert's words actually meant._

_“You're taking them as hostages?! Your own squire and your squire's and lover's sister-in-law?!” Richard had heard himself bark, lowering his voice again when it was ringing in his own ears. “You can't be serious about this!” The English ruler had balled his fists, and he couldn't remember the last time he had felt as helpless and powerless as he felt now, even not when he had been in the Holy Land, fighting before Jerusalem's gates; or when Leopold had trapped him on his furtive way through Austria back to his own country after his shipwreck._

_Robert hadn't backed away from the impressive warrior's fury, but the muscle twitching under his left eye had proved to Richard that he hadn't been as unmoved as he had wanted to appear to be._

_“You've left me no other choice, sire. You and your friend, Blondel, actually. I know why he has come here. I know that he wants to free you, two of my men have talked to three of his accomplices, down in Annweiler in one of the taverns.” Robert had smirked when he had seen the look in Richard's eyes. “They have been clever enough to not reveal their true identity, and they haven't taken them as prisoners, your majesty. I'm not a beginner when it comes to conspiracies, and the same goes for Lukas and Jakub. It was an interesting talk, that's for sure. Your minstrel is one of the most loyal men I've ever met, I must say. He is determined to free you at all costs, even if it means that he'll have to stay as the emperor's prisoner and lose his head because of his feat. I haven't found his messenger who must have delivered his messages to his accomplices in Annweiler but, he gave them the order to free you on your way to Worms without him. Blondel of course was realistic enough to know that I wouldn't let him come with you, but he obviously didn't care about that, only about your imminent and fast return to your own people.” His face had become softer. “Your bard must love you, deeply, because he would gladly die for you as it seems, sire.”_

_Richard had had to swallow. “Yes, he does. But why holding your own squire as your hostage, why not Blondel himself?” he had wanted to know._

_Robert's smile had turned sad. “Blondel is my hostage – the emperor's hostage - as much as Erik and Lisa are, sire, don't you doubt that. But, Blondel being Heinrich's prisoner wouldn't keep you from escaping, and Erik would probably try to help you, as much as he loves you and wants you to be happy. You would use the opportunity offering itself to you and at least think about trying to escape.” Robert's blue eyes had seemed to look right into Richard's soul when he had continued: “Please, don't get me wrong, Richard the Lionheart,” he had said, daring to use his name instead of addressing him with 'your highness' for once._

_Richard had let him do it without getting angry, at least not angrier than he had already been. He had actually felt honored that a man like the Earl of Lindelborn, a true warrior down to his bones like he himself was, had called him Lionheart._

_“I don't bear a grudge against your minstrel or you yourself, sire. I do understand the reason for Blondel's behavior and your worries about your own people and country. The things I've learned about your younger brother and the king of France have done nothing to boost my respect for them. If I was him, I would want to free you at any cost myself.”_

_Richard had actually been amazed that Robert had admitted that to him that openly, and he had allowed him to go on with a short nod of his head._

_“You must understand that even though I value, appreciate and respect you highly, sire, my loyalty yet belongs to my emperor Heinrich VI., and to him, only. I cannot risk being careless and too softhearted when it comes to your imprisonment as my emperor's hostage and your safety. My ruler trusts me, and I won't disappoint him. I know how much you love Erik and that you are a man of honor and nobleness. You couldn't live with the thought of something happening to the one you love that much, and surely not with the thought of something bad happening to an innocent, pregnant lady because of what you have done. You might hate me for what I'll have to do, but you won't try to escape on our way to Worms and back to Castle Trifels, because you will have to live with the knowledge that Erik, Lisa and their family will have to suffer the very unpleasant consequences if you'll do. Don't you doubt that they will have to face a severe punishment and lose their lives if you'll so much as only think of an escape attempt.”_

_“I could give you my word that I won't try to escape.” Richard's voice had been flat and soundless, and he had felt every ounce of color leaving his face._

_“You could, and I am sure you will, but Erik and Lisa being my hostages will also make you fight hard against each and every possible attacker. I'll need you by my side if it should come to that, and your wish to keep Erik and his sister alive and unharmed will be the best guarantee for that.” Robert had gone silent, and Richard had turned away from him as he had struggled to regain his composure.”I guess that they don't know about your decision to gouge me with their lives.”_

_“They don't. Erik only knows that he won't accompany you, and that I will take over his duties and responsibilities during our absence from Castle Trifels. I told him that I need him to watch Blondel, and that it would be better this way because I feared that he wouldn't be able to keep his love for you a secret in front of the emperor and the court. He is unhappy and as mad at me as it was to be expected, but he didn't question my words.” Richard had had to give Robert some credit for not having sounded very happy about that, either._

_“I see. So you lied to your second squire,” Richard had mused, throwing a brief glance at the earl over his shoulder. “And yes, I can see that you're deadly serious about that. Erik's and Lady Lisa's well-being and lives depend on my cooperation and behavior. You've truly found the only way that will keep me from only thinking about ending this imprisonment to my own conditions, and I guess that I have to admire you for your courage, your resolve and sturdiness and for your loyalty towards the emperor. Heinrich is lucky to have you, even though I truly doubt that he appreciates you as much as he should. Just tell me, Robert of Lindelborn, will_ you _be able to live with the consequences in case you'll have to end their lives?”_

_The dark-haired earl had simply looked at him, and Richard had seen the answer in his eyes. No, Robert wouldn't be able to live with that, but he would do what he had to do before finding a way to end his own misery, and Richard wouldn't make the mistake and count on Robert's weakness. He had turned away again, hardly able to stand the earl's sight any longer._

_“I don't hate you, Robert of Lindelborn,” the English monarch had finally stated. “Perhaps, I would have done the same if I had been in your position. But, you should better leave me alone now before I will do something we will both regret.”_

_Richard hadn't seen Robert's bow when the earl had replied, quietly: “Of course, your majesty, as you wish.” But, he had felt the soft gust of wind grazing his cold cheek the other man's deep bow had caused, and he had heard the understanding and regret in Robert's honest voice. “I am sorry, your majesty, I truly am.”_

_Richard had stood there without moving until the silent sound of a closing door had proved to him that he had been alone again before he had slumped down on the bench in the alcove and allowed himself to cry silent tears for the first time since he had been crowned._

 

***

 

“The earl of Lindelborn is very wise for his young age. It was a clever move to let you stay here with me while my king Richard has to justify himself in Worms. No one else would watch me with such eagle eyes like you'll do, Erik of Thanstein.”

Erik spun around with a startled yelp when he heard the bard's smooth and warm voice behind his back. He had stood on the balcony that belonged to Richard's private living room for quite some time, watching the caravan making its way down to Annweiler becoming smaller and smaller with stinging eyes and a heavy heart. Richard had asked him to stay in his rooms until he would return, even though Erik had tried to object against it, the thought of staying alone in his beloved king's quarters making him feel rather uncomfortable. He was only an unimportant squire, and the large chambers were far too splendid and magnificent for him. Apart from that, he was reminded of Richard here far more painfully than in his own small chamber, and the mere sight of the cozy and large bed where he had lain in Richard's arms ever since the tournament was almost a torture. But, he hadn't been able to say no to Richard's request, and Robert had agreed to the monarch's wish, instantly, obviously relieved that he didn't have to search for someone else taking care of these rooms during their stay in Worms.

Maybe, this was his way to make up with his underling for his decision, but Erik wasn't willing to forgive his lord for separating him from his lionheart that easily. His mind might be able to see the reason behind the warrior's decision, but his heart only cared about him being denied his wish to serve the English sovereign during his probably dangerous and straining journey and later in Worms, where the English sovereign would need an understanding ear and silent comfort more than ever.

Apart from that, Erik was sensitive enough to suspect that there was more behind Robert's explanation than he had wanted to admit, another reason he hadn't told Erik and which was most likely the real and more important reason.

“I'm sure that your lord will take good care of my king Richard, young knave,” Blondel now added when Erik didn't do anything than just stare at him with narrowed eyes.

“He isn't my lord!” the son of the Baron of Thanstein finally snapped, annoyed that his rival had intruded his privacy and was already teasing him merely one minute after Richard had left him.

The small group of travelers had of course left Castle Trifels more than one hour ago, and for Erik it already felt like an eternity, but this wasn't the point here. The riders were still visible as tiny points at the horizon as they slowly made their way along the winding and dusty road, and all Erik wanted to do was running after them and begging Robert onto his knees to let him come with them.

“Yes, I know. He's more your friend's lord.” Blondel tilted his head to the side with musingly pursed lips. “Even though I doubt that they will get lots of opportunities to enjoy their blooming love in Worms. The Earl of Lindelborn won't let my king out of his sight for even one short blink of the eye, and I truly doubt that he likes to be watched while making love to his sweet Marian by his royal prisoner.”

The blond minstrel's voice had hardened by his last words, and when he now came closer, Erik was reminded of a wild cat creeping up on its prey against his will. He had listened to the gossip that had spread out in the castle among the servants, and most of the maids – the young ones as much as the not so young ones any longer - had developed a crush on the handsome stranger who stayed a mystery for most of them despite their attempts to learn more about him.

Blondel resided in rather formidable guest quarters and was the royal hostage's personal guest, but he preferred to spend his time with the servants and the guards instead of the court, and judging by what Erik had heard about him, he was easy-going and never minded a harmless flirt with the kitchen staff or a game with the dices with the bored guards to learn more about the imperial castle and its residents.

Erik wasn't as naive any longer to not know why he was doing that, gathering as much information as possible without giving anything away himself, and his mysterious appearance only fueled the passion of the young maids and the interest of the young men who had to stand on guard duty for hours.

“That's none of your business, Blondel,” he now stated, unconsciously mirroring Richard's usual posture by crossing his arms before his chest. This pulled an amused and somewhat wistful smile from his unwelcomed visitor.

“I guess, not.” Blondel leaned against the railing of the balcony beside Erik – too close for the young squire's comfort and peace of mind. Erik only loved his lionheart, but Blondel's mere presence still affected him in a way no one else had ever done before, and he instinctively stepped back to not inhale Blondel's enticing male scent too much.

“What do you want from me, minstrel?” he asked, tersely, because he didn't believe that Blondel had just come to make polite and meaningless conversation.

The older man surprised him again, because his voice was sincere and the expression in his eyes was honest when he smiled at him and said: “I came to apologize to you, Erik. I shouldn't have kissed you, and I am truly sorry that I took advantage of your confusion and forced myself upon you.”

Erik blinked, taken aback, because he hadn't expected that Blondel would ever apologize to him. “Did his majesty tell you to apologize to me?” he asked, mistrustfully, and the handsome bard with the beautiful but sad amber-golden eyes shook his head.

“No, he didn't, Erik of Thanstein. I came here on my own. I know that I hurt you – even though it led to something good for both of you – and you are the last person here on Castle Trifels who deserves such a treatment. Anyone else, but not you.”

Erik licked his lips, unsure how to react to Blondel's honest words. “Why that?”

“Because you truly love my king Richard with all your heart. You are the only one caring about his well-being and his happiness, and I actually feel ashamed that I tried to use you of all people against him.” Blondel watched Erik, attentively, but he didn't try to step closer. “I don't regret the kiss itself, but I regret that I hurt you.” There was a strange fire in the amber-golden depth, and Erik realized with dismay that Blondel actually desired him. The minstrel didn't even try to hide his desire from him, but he also didn't act on it, his apology seemingly his reassurance that he wouldn't make a move on him again, as well. Erik felt confused about that, because he knew for sure that Blondel loved Richard with the same passion and desire as Erik loved the English sovereign, and he wasn't sure what to make out of Blondel's feelings for him and his own about the king's minstrel.

Maybe, their common desire and passion for Richard the Lionheart was the explanation for Blondel's desire for him and Erik's own reaction to his presence and closeness, their shared love for the impressive English ruler tying them together in a strange bond they didn't want but couldn't cut, either.

“I see. I appreciate your honesty, Blondel, and I accept your apology, too. But, I will stay attentive and mistrustful, nevertheless, because I know why you came here and that you won't give up on your tries to free his majesty at all costs,” he said, careful to keep his own voice as neutral as possible.

Blondel bowed before him with a chuckle. “I wouldn't have thought anything else. I will never make the mistake of underestimating you again, Erik of Thanstein, don't you doubt that. You're a clever young man and I didn't expect any less of you. I will make sure that you will be able to follow me wherever I'll go, so don't hesitate to watch me like the Earl of Lindelborn ordered you to do during his absence. Knowing that you will surely want to spend some undisturbed time with your sister, the sweetest young lady only imaginable, I will cooperate and tell you where I want to go now. I have always loved horses, these beautiful animals are loyal and brave companions like only few humans will ever be, and I want to spend some peaceful hours in the royal stables. Nuri, the equerry, is not only one of the most pleasant and intelligent fellows here on Castle Trifels except for you yourself, Erik of Thanstein,” the older man winked at Erik with his right eye, “but also truly handsome and maybe capable of making me forget my grief about my king Richard's absence for a while.”

With these words, Blondel turned around and stalked towards the exit, leaving a speechless and dumbfounded Erik behind.

 

_The tower of Castle Grafendahn in the middle between Castle Thanstein and Castle Altdahn:_

  



	12. June 1193: In The Castle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik has to stay on Castle Trifels while Richard has to defend himself in Worms. Will he learn about the true reason for Robert's decision? And what will Blondel do during his king's absence?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dear Arrested, I did my best to post the new chapter as fast as possible, I hope you won't mind Blondel getting a bigger role here in this story. I simply love writing Marco Reus - my pattern for the mysterious blond minstrel - that much, and he refused to stay in the background and leave the stage for Richard and Erik, only. I also thought that you wouldn't mind Oscar becoming a real part of this story, Erik really is in desperate need of a friend and a confident and inclined ear to listen to his worries. Richard will show up in the next chapter again, and so will Robert and Marian. :-)

Blondel felt Erik's disbelieving glance on his back as he made his way to the door, and he had to fight the strong urge to turn his head and look at him. The pretty young squire was a dangerous terrain, making him feel things he didn't want to feel and he was also the only one he really couldn't have, neither for something serious, nor for a short fling.

Erik of Thanstein belonged to Richard the Lionheart, to the man Blondel owed more than his life, and he had sworn an oath to himself that he would stay away from the tempting nobleman with the light-brown hair and the beautiful hazel-green eyes, the only man Blondel could love as much as he loved his king.

The door closed behind him with a silent sound and Blondel straightened his shoulders and slipped back into the role of the harmless and rather simple-minded minstrel he was for most of the people living on Castle Trifels. The corridors were surprisingly empty at this time of the day, the castle taking a breather for the time being after the royal hostage's departure.

Blondel met only few servants and guards on his way to the stables, the maids flattering their eyelashes and smiling invitingly at him while the guards greeted him with a short nod and a hopefully grunted invitation to play a short game with them.

The blond bard returned the smiles and politely declined the invitations with the promise to come back later, his only craving to get a breather himself and find some peace of mind again. The stables where he wanted to go would be perfect for that, the smell of horses and hay never failing to calm him down. Blondel loved spending his time with these beautiful and intelligent, loyal animals, listening to their soft snorts and neighs when he groomed them always grounded him and relaxed him like nothing else did in this sometimes pretty hostile and unfriendly world.

Apart from that, the equerry of the stables, Nuri, was one of the few residents of Castle Trifels Blondel really liked to spend his time with because of his reserved and fascinating nature. Nuri was of oriental origin and a mystery even for Blondel, who had reached true mastery in reading people and finding out their best kept secrets, and apart from that, he was also very handsome and desirable.

Not that the dark-haired ruler over the stables had left any hint of being interested in Blondel so far, but the tall minstrel wasn't the man to give up that easily and at least, Nuri didn't throw him out of the stables right away again when he showed up like he did with some of the other residents without caring about ranks. For the good-looking equerry with the gray eyes came always the well-being of his horses first, and he commanded his underlings with a firm hand and great skills.

The stables were as empty as the castle itself was when Blondel entered them, the stable boys either moving the horses on the great courtyard or being busied with seeing to the saddles and the bridle or other minor repairs.

Blondel strolled along the horseboxes, greeting the beautiful crossbred mounts and the cold bloods with a pat on their necks or a gentle stroke over their nostrils. “Yes, you're my good girl,” he purred when Summerwind, one of the fox-colored mares, pushed her nose against his palm with a wistful snort. “Maybe, if I'm a good boy, Nuri will allow me to ride you later on.” The mare snorted excitedly again, and Blondel patted her neck once more before continuing on his way to go to the other side of the long building where the boxes of the few Arabs were housed.

The soft murmur of a male voice and the nervous neighing coming from one of the boxes led him the way to the one he had been looking for, and when he peered through the bars of the box, he could see Nuri kneeling on the straw next to the black Arab the Earl of Lindelborn normally rode.

Thunder had sprained his left front hoof three days ago, and the young earl had had to take one of the other horses therefore. Thunder was a real beauty but hard to tame, and the stallion needed the firm hand of an experienced rider. Only Nuri was capable of handling him except for Lord Robert himself, and he was the only one allowed to see to this special horse. None of the stable boys dared coming closer to him, and Thunder normally reacted badly to the presence of anybody else than his beloved owner or Nuri themselves but, when Blondel now reached out with his flat hand to let Thunder take in his scent, the black Arab bent down his head and licked over his palm, eagerly.

“The earl won't be pleased when he learns about your friendship with his horse, minstrel,” Nuri stated without bothering to look up from his task of taking care of Thunder's injury. Blondel suppressed a contented chuckle, watching the dark-haired equerry with attentive eyes instead. Thunder pushed with his mouth against his hand with a reproachful snort, searching for more salt. The bard had used his flirt with one of the kitchen maids to get a small amount of the precious white crumbs before he had visited Erik, knowing how much Thunder loved salt, and he stroked his nostrils in a wordless apology that there wasn't anything left.

“Horses are sensitive and intelligent animals, his mount liking me should prove to him that I am not as bad and unlikable as the lord suspects me to be,” he only replied, pulling a mocking snarl from the other man. “Are you not? That would surprise me, minstrel!” Nuri let his fingers glide over the still swollen flesh of the stallion's black leg, and Blondel felt a tingling in his stomach as he admired the elegance of his hand and his movements. Nuri called a natural grace his own Blondel had seen only few times before.

His beloved king Richard was one of them, Erik of Thanstein had this kind of natural grace – and the Earl of Lindelborn had it, as well, as hard it was for Blondel to admit that. The bard blinked, pushing the unwelcome thought of his opponent back into the farthest corner of his mind and focusing on the handsome equerry again. “Why do you call me 'minstrel' all of the time, Nuri? My name is not so hard to keep in mind, is it? I don't call you 'equerry' but use your name,” he wanted to know, giving his voice just the right allusion of sulkiness and hurt that normally got him everything he wanted from the other servants.

His attempt was lost on Nuri, though. “I wouldn't mind it if you did, minstrel, we're not that close that we needed to use names,” he only remarked, his eyes still fixed on the snorting Arab. But, there was the slightest hint of a faint blush creeping into his cheeks that didn't slip Blondel's sharp gaze.

He entered the box fully now, kneeling down beside Nuri, not the least deterred by the other one's cold behavior. This finally made the dark-haired equerry look at him. “Don't you have other things to do, _Blondel_?” he asked, emphasizing the blond bard's name. “I'm sure you would be much more comfortable in the kitchen, Rosalind will certainly have spared a mug with cool cider for you.”

Blondel detected with contentment the increasing blush on his cheeks and the slight sound of annoyance in the equerry's voice. “I'm relieved to hear that you do remember my name, and I'm perfectly fine where I am, Nuri, don't worry about that. Plus, you don't have to be jealous of anyone here in the castle, you're far more mysterious and interesting to me than any other resident living here.”

Nuri stared at him with narrowed eyes for one moment. “I'm not jealous!” he snapped, his tone betraying his tries to stay unmoved. “I don't care about whom you gift your attention with only the slightest, but I couldn't help but notice the wistful glances of each and every maid or guard shot at you, who have ever had the misfortune to cross your way!”

A wide smile spread across the bard's face, and the dark-haired equerry averted his eyes with an embarrassed expression on his handsome features. It was clear to see that he expected Blondel to tease him now, but the tall minstrel knew better than to push the other man and make him withdraw into his shell even more. “I'm worried about my king's well-being and his safety, Nuri, and I was hoping to find some calm and peace here. Horses are a far better company than most of the humans I've met in my entire life so far, and I only came here to offer you my help.”

He looked expectantly and hopefully at the equerry, and Thunder decided to come to his help by bending down his head and rubbing his nostrils against Blondel's sleeve. “See, even Thunder wants me to help you!” he confirmed his request, making Nuri growl in defeat with that. “Yes, after you've bribed him with salt! Don't think that I didn't notice that, minstrel!” he countered, helplessly but without real anger. Him using Blondel's profession again was only a rather weak attempt to keep his distance, and Blondel knew that he had won, but he couldn't help but point out, nevertheless: “Would Thunder let himself be bribed with salt by any of the other servants or noblemen?”

Nuri huffed and rolled his eyes. “No, he would not. Fair enough, you want to help me? Then stop bothering me and start grooming the fox-colored lady you conquered with your sweet-talk and the apples you brought her on your last visit. I can already hear her complaining about you neglecting her for so long!”

Blondel would have preferred to help Nuri with Thunder, but he was sensitive enough to feel that Nuri needed some space right now, and he knew that patience and cooperation would finally get him where he wanted to get and make Nuri open up to him a little bit more. “Of course, equerry, your wish is my command!” he said, rising to his feet to leave the box. Thunder snorted, disappointedly, and Blondel patted his neck and whispered the promise to come back later into his twitching ear.

He was about to exit the box when Nuri's voice made him turn his head again. “And I'm not mysterious, at all, minstrel!” His gray eyes had changed their color to the dark greenish gray of the stormy sea Blondel missed so much as he now looked up at the blond bard, and Blondel gazed down at the other man without hiding the amber-golden fire of his desire from him. Richard and his young knave Erik might be the only men Blondel could ever love and be willing to die for, but Nuri fascinated him, deeply, and his feelings for the equerry definitely went deeper than a brief fling would do.

“Oh, you are for sure a mystery, Nuri, a fascinating mystery I am determined to solve, so you'd better be prepared for me exploring all of the things you're trying to hide from me!” Blondel said with a smile before he stepped out of the box with a cheerful whistle, leaving a speechless and dumbfounded man behind for the second time within one hour.

 

***

 

After Blondel had left him, Erik had kept staring into the distance for a rather long amount of time, until his eyes had hurt from all the effort to search for the one who wasn't there any longer, at all. Richard the Lionheart and his entourage had disappeared at least one hour ago, leaving only a tiny cloud of dust behind that had faded in the meantime, as well. Yet, the young man simply couldn't leave his post, feeling as if he had failed and disappointed his beloved king and as if he had to stay on the balcony to await his return for the rest of his life.

Robert's explanation that he was the only one he trusted enough to keep an eye on Blondel during his own absence had sounded reasonable and logical as long as Richard had still been with him, but right now, standing alone on the empty balcony after being left behind, Erik only felt lonely and furious about his lord's decision, trying to understand and accept it without ever being able to do so.

The young squire clenched his hands around the railing, blinking away his angry tears of lovesickness and longing. Maybe, he had done something that had made Robert think that he would put the English sovereign to shame in front of the emperor and his court? Maybe, he was afraid that Erik wouldn't be able to hide his love for Richard from the others?

Erik himself was sure that he would have been able to do that if only given the chance to prove himself, and he felt hurt and betrayed that Robert had taken Marian, his own lover, with him, obviously not afraid that their secret relationship could be revealed by something his first squire said or did. Why did the earl trust Marian more than he trusted Erik? The shorter one was impulsive and carried his heart on his sleeve as much as Erik did oftentimes enough but of course, Robert of Lindelborn didn't want to be separated from his lover for so long, not caring about taking Erik's closest friend away from him with that.

A soft knock on the door pulled him out of his musings, and he loosened his grip around the railing and turned around to face the one desiring entry to the shelter the king's rooms had become for him.

“Come in!” he called when the knock sounded again, flinching because his voice was barely recognizable to him himself. After one more second, the door was opened just by a small slit, and Oscar's unruly shock of brown hair became visible as the young servant cautiously peered through the opening.

Erik relaxed, gratefully, glad that he didn't have to endure another encounter with Richard's blond minstrel even though he truly doubted that Blondel would have knocked twice and waited for him to grant him access. Blondel seemed to think that he had all rights to enter Richard's quarters at any time it pleased him and without having to wait for permission, and his astonishing abilities to make the guards his willing accomplices when it came to that – those who should actually be the ones keeping him from doing so - only reinforced his belief.

“Oscar, come in. Is there anything I can do for you?” he asked, entering Richard's living room and crossing it to pour himself something to drink. The long stay in the warm summer sun had made him thirsty and sweaty, and the coolness of the room was a welcome change after the heat outside.

Oscar hesitantly stepped over the threshold to close the door behind him. “You doing something for me, my lord? That would be more than inappropriate,” he asked, confused, a small frown creasing his smooth forehead. “I came here to ask you if I can do something for you! His majesty himself ordered me to serve you in the best way possible during his absence, and I won't disappoint him.”

Erik could see that the young servant was still stunned about the English monarch having spoken to him personally to make sure that his young knave would have a suitable companion during his absence, and he found himself smiling, a sweet and wistful small smile that only boosted his youthful, male beauty. Oscar's glance turned admiring and wistful, and he cast his eyes down with a blush as soon as he realized his unacceptable boldness.

“That was very kind of his majesty,” Erik said, friendly, his suddenly changed role from being a high ranking aristocrat's personal servant to the one of being the served aristocrat himself making him feel uncomfortable. “But, there is really no need to call me lord, Oscar.”

The young man bit his lip, unsure how to react. “But, you _are_ a lord, Erik of Thanstein. You are the son of the Baron of Thanstein, and you are surely one of the few nobleman truly deserving to be addressed this way!” he finally objected, his blush deepening to crimson red because he had spoken without thinking, revealing an unexpected and so far never shown defiance with his words. Erik had known him only as the shy and compliant servant he had been until now, and the young squire was not only surprised, but also pleased to find Oscar much cleverer, more observant and more defiant than he had considered him to be.

“That might be true, Oscar,” he agreed with an amused chuckle lurking in his throat, “but I'd rather have you as my friend than as my servant, only. I understand the need to call me 'my lord' when others are around, but will you please call me by my name when we're alone?” he asked, and Oscar eventually looked up at him again with a shy but honest smile. “I think I can do that, Erik,” he said, and the hot wave of longing and love surging through Erik with violent force took his breath away.

It had been only a couple of weeks ago that his beloved Lionheart had asked him the same, and Erik remembered that fateful night as if it had been only yesterday. His throat went tight and tears threatened to well up in his eyes, tears he didn't want to shed in front of anyone. He needed to get out of these rooms at least for a while, he needed to regain his composure and distract himself from his grief and his heartache, hoping that leaving these rooms would help him with that.

“Would you accompany me outside for a while, Oscar?” he asked hoarsely, well aware of the younger one's attentive eyes which probably saw much more than Erik would have liked him to notice.

“Of course, Erik. Shall I get you a coat?” Oscar luckily went back to professionalism and his duties. Erik was grateful that he respected his desperate wish to keep up appearances and didn't try to console him in any way or ask him about the reason for his stay on the castle while the king was on his way to Worms. He did like the young servant who had shown his trustworthiness on several occasions ever since the tournament, but they weren't as close by now as he and Marian already were, and Erik needed his time to become friends with others and trust them with his heart.

The young squire would have preferred to spend some time with his sister, but Lisa suffered from another bout of morning sickness and wasn't in the state of leaving her chambers. “No, thank you, it is warm enough to go without. It is still rather early and I want to take a walk in the forests where the sun won't burn us,” he said, emptying his mug and heading for the door with determined steps.

Oscar opened the door for him and Erik left the king's quarters with a relieved sigh. A walk in the forests outside the thick walls of the castle would do him good, and he hoped to find some peace and strength there, being alone for a while and surrounded by beautiful nature with Oscar as his only company.

The young servant followed him, silently, and Erik tried to ignore the guards whose glances appraised them with barely hidden curiosity until they were out of sight again. Erik knew that they wondered about the earl's decision to leave him behind, and he could hardly stand looking them into their eyes and see the questions there he couldn't answer, at all. He kept his face impassive, not wanting to fuel their curiosity even further by showing his inner turmoil, and the sight of the smaller gate that would grant him his freedom for a couple of hours accelerated his steps in anticipation.

He smiled at Jakub and Roman who were standing on guard duty at each side of the side gate, expecting them to smile back and open the wooden door for him. Jakub and Roman belonged to the Earl of Lindelborn's best soldiers, and they had always been friendly and kind to the young squire when he had joined Robert's household, teaching him the things he needed to know without being as arrogant and overbearing as so many other soldiers and servants had been at the beginning.

His steps faltered when neither of them moved, their features a mixture of regret, bad conscience and the discomfort about what they had been ordered to do. Jakub and Roman didn't smile back, and Erik stopped before them, looking from one man to the other. “Jakub, Roman, what's wrong? I want to take a walk outside in the forest for one hour or so, and Oscar will make sure that I will be safe and not alone. Would you please open the gate for me?” he asked, uncertainly, when Jakub and Roman simply kept looking at him without saying anything in return.

He hated it that his voice was trembling, and he looked pleadingly at Jakub, his eyes begging the older man to open the gate for him. Erik felt like choking within the walls of the castle without Richard being there, reassuring him and guiding him through their daily routine in his gentle and firm way, and he really needed to leave it for a while.

Finally, Jakub cleared his throat. “I'm sorry, Sir Erik, but we're not allowed to grant your wish. Our lord gave us the strict order to not let you leave the castle during his absence, neither you, nor your sister, Lady Lisa. It would be too dangerous for you, and this arrangement is only for your own safety. I'm afraid that you'll have to stay on Castle Trifels and within its walls until his majesty King Richard and our lord will have returned here.”

“W-w-what?” Erik stammered, hoping that this was only a nightmare he would wake up from any time, soon. The mere thought of not being able to leave the castle and having to stay within its walls as long as his Lionheart and his lord were away almost scared him to death, and he felt cold sweat breaking out on his back and his face. “This can't be true! You're only kidding, aren't you?” he begged, but Jakub's and Roman's expressions told him that they were not kidding, at all.

“I'm afraid, we're not, Sir Erik. Please, go back to the castle without causing more trouble,” Roman urged him to turn around and resign himself to his fate of being a prisoner himself like his beloved king was for as long as it would take the English sovereign and his entourage to come back to the Trifels.

The overwhelming feeling of being trapped against his will was what made Erik realize the true intention behind Robert's decision, and he narrowed his eyes with sudden and hot ire. In this moment, Erik forgot completely his fears and uncertainties as he glared dangerously at both men, who flinched back from the fury coming off in waves from the young man with a startled gasp.

“I am the Earl of Lindelborn's hostage, ain't I? Me and my sister, actually! We shall grant his majesty's well behavior in Worms, making sure that he will agree to the emperor's conditions and that he won't try to free himself! My sister and I are the guarantee that his majesty will accept everything his highness wants from him and that he will come back here without fighting for his freedom! I don't need to ask you if you have known the real reason for me having to stay here without telling me, do I? How could you do that to me? How could you pretend to be my friends and agree to such an extortion behind my back and without warning me? Tell me, does his majesty know about this plot and – even more important - did Marian know about this plot? Did he know when he left the castle together with them that our lord had decided to take me and my sister as his personal hostages?”

 

_This beauty blooming outside the castle walls would surely console Erik at least a little bit, if he was allowed to leave it, that is..._

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another cliffhanger, I know. Robert will have to do something truly brave and outstanding to make up with Erik after his return, I guess...


	13. June 1193: Arrival In Worms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Erik suffers on Castle Trifels, Richard and his entourage have finally reached the city Worms where the king will have to agree to Heinrich VI.'s conditions...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Arrested, this chapter took me the entire day to write, I'm so slow at the moment. I'm not sure if it makes any sense or is only some mind-trash, too pathetic and unbelievable or too boring, but I hope that you will like this chapter at least a little bit. And no, Robert won't be out of the woods after this, he will still have to make up for taking Erik and Lisa as his hostages, don't worry. ;-)
> 
> I have found only little about the court council in Worms, some resources tell about Richard having been imprisoned in a tower called 'Tower Luginsland' (the most fitting translation would be: 'take a look at the landscape'), and I decided to let my Richard stay in that tower, as well. He surely hasn't been treated like an ordinary prisoner but as the royal hostage he actually was, even though Heinrich VII. has been imprisoned there by his own fater Friedrich II, fourty years later, too.

Their journey to Worms had gone well despite all doubts and worries, only the sudden heat of the early summer and the dryness of the dusty ground causing some discomfort along their way. Richard had been tensed up and on alert the entire time, and his stallion White Arrow had picked up his mood and balked nervously at each and every little animal crossing their way.  
Richard normally knew how to handle his loyal companion, but he simply hadn't been able to get rid of the picture of Erik and Lady Lisa being trapped on Castle Trifels, alone and scared, and he had found himself short-tempered, restless and terse for the entire trip, his mood affecting not only his horse but everyone in his company.

They had needed almost five days for the normally fifty miles, because the Earl of Lindelborn had decided to not take the main route along the Rhine plain which would have been much more comfortable, but to take smaller and rather unknown paths through the green hills and mountains, changing their route several times to stay unnoticed. Therefore, it had been much more than fifty miles, and the rough and sometimes impassable landscape had slowed them down, a lot. Richard had doubted that this would keep Blondel's men from attacking them, but maybe, they had planned to free him on their way back to Castle Trifels instead of doing that on their way to Worms and the court council, anyway, presuming that the attention of his guards would be lessened after Richard had agreed to the emperor's demands.

Richard was used to sleeping on the field and in the wild nature, and he hadn't minded staying in the rather small inns or one of the monasteries Robert had chosen for them. The earl hadn't made the mistake of traveling with a big entourage and a lot of baggage, and Richard's belongings he would need in front of the court council to appear as the powerful ruler he actually was therefore had been brought to Worms one week ago. The English sovereign had actually liked to travel incognito and dressed like a simple nobleman, enjoying the small taste of freedom this journey had provided him with now and then.

The only thing truly bothering him had been that Robert hadn't let him out of sight for even one second, serving him himself instead of letting his squire Marian do it. He had become Richard's silent shadow following him everywhere he had wanted to go, and the English monarch had raised one royal eyebrow at him on their first night outside Castle Trifels, crossing his arms before his chest and leaning against the wall next to the door.

“Am I supposed to even use the privy or the chamber pot before your eagle eyes, Robert of Lindelborn? I don't think that possible attackers will choose this short moment of all times for an rescue attempt. Would you please be so kind to grant me at least some privacy when I have to see to my bodily needs?”

Robert had actually blushed, shooting him a sharp glance before murmuring something unintelligible and leaving the small room they had to share with Marian, Sven and Lars.

Richard had huffed a relieved sigh and allowed himself a few seconds of weakness and being only the heartbroken man Richard instead of the king by sitting on his small cot and burying his face in his hands, his heart crying for his sweet young knave.

Being able to let his mask and his iron self-control slip was a luxury he normally didn't have, and soon enough, he had put his usual stern expression back on his face and become the strong and unmoved ruler again. The rest of their journey had gone by more or less smoothly, and Richard had accepted the company of Lars and Sven when they had taken a rest somewhere in the thick forest, being too much of an experienced warrior to insist of his privacy there.

As it seemed, the dark-haired earl was determined to serve him himself even in their much more luxury accommodation in Worms, as well, which would surely arouse suspicions among the members of the court, and Richard was really tired of being watched the entire time.

Marian had been pale and quiet ever since they had left Castle Trifels, and the king felt almost sorry for him. It was clear to see that the young man avoided his lord and lover and that he didn't approve Robert's deed, at all. Erik was his best friend, and Marian was too young, passionate and innocent to understand the reason behind the earl's decision like Richard actually did.

He might not like it and be angry about it, but Richard was politician enough to comprehend why the young earl had forced him into cooperation like this. For Marian, it must have been nothing but a huge betrayal, and one of the reasons why he wanted Marian being the one serving him was to keep him away from Robert and busied enough until he had gotten over his hurt and anger at least a little bit. Not so much to spare the earl a heartache, but because Marian and Robert being lovers made it easier for him to enjoy his sweet, blossoming love with Erik after his return to Castle Trifels. Robert being in a secret relationship with his first squire would grant Richard and Erik that the Earl of Lindelborn would be 'blind' when it came to their own relationship, and this was what the king cared about the most.

Apart from that, Marian didn't deserve the heartache he suffered from at the moment because of the difficult and annoying entanglements of higher politics, and distracting Marian from his sorrow would hopefully distract him from his own grief for a while, as well.

“I gave you my word that I won't try to escape, Robert of Lindelborn, does a king's oath mean so little to you? There is no need for you to serve me yourself, your squire Marian will be more than capable of doing that. He would also be the more appropriate one for this task. Do you really want to arouse suspicions by playing the role of my servant?” Richard asked him when they were settling in in the fortified tower in Worms where Richard and his entourage would reside during their stay. His quarters were as splendid as his rooms in Castle Trifels, but they were just another prison, and Richard would have preferred to sleep in the wild forests under the moon and on the hard ground, if it only gave him the feeling of freedom back for at least one night.

Robert paused in his doing, slowly turning around to look at him. The earl had started to unpack their bags while Richard had restlessly paced up and down in his bedroom, finally stopping before the window, which was secured with iron bars, of course. They would keep him from escaping through it, but not protect him from being shot in the back by an arrow in case somebody decided to end his life this way, but the English sovereign didn't care about that possibility at the moment.

“Your word does mean something to me, your majesty,” the dark-haired knight said with a suppressed sigh, “but, I do care about your safety too much to risk anything. Please, do me the favor and step away from the window, will you?”

Richard let out a snort, but did as he had been asked, tired of another fight with his guard. “Your emperor surely won't try to kill me here. He needs my money far too much for even think about that. I'm much more useful to him if I'll stay alive and healthy. Plus, it is not likely that the men you accused my minstrel and friend Blondel of having acquired for an escape attempt will kill me, either. You should actually be more worried about your own life and health. If anyone is in danger to be killed, then it would be you and not me.”

Robert stared at him for one moment, and Richard got the impression that the earl had to resist the urge to roll his eyes at him. “I'm well aware of that, your majesty, although I suspect that your 'dear' brother John and Philipp II., the king of France, might have a different opinion about the prospect of your head staying on your shoulders,” he eventually spoke up, “but I promised your young knave to bring you back to him in one piece and unharmed, and I am determined to keep this promise, even if it means to endanger myself or lose my own life over that.”

Richard cocked his head to the side. “Even though it would mean to cause Marian a horrible heartache with that?”

Robert pressed his lips to a thin line and continued the unpacking. “I'm not sure that he still loves me, anyway. He made perfectly clear that he is angry and disappointed because of what I did to his best friend and that he won't forgive me anywhere in the not so distant future.”

“You can't blame him for being angry on Erik's behalf, Robert. But of course, he still loves you, that is clear to see. Plus, he wouldn't be that angry if he didn't love you any longer. He would suffer badly if he lost you, and you should be much more concerned about your well-being than you seem to be. Love forgives a lot, believe me.”

The young earl turned his head away to hide his feelings from the king watching him closely. “I'm not so sure that Marian feels about this the same way as you do, your majesty.” Robert sounded defeated for the first time ever since Richard had met him several months ago, and the king was surprised about the wave of pity surging through him by the picture of misery before his eyes.

“What about a deal, Robert? You will let Marian serve me, and I will put in a good word for you by him. You are right with what you've said about my younger brother and Philipp, and if you really want to see to my safety, then you should keep your eyes and your ears open and try to find out whether or not they've managed to send an assassin to Worms. I promised to you that I won't try to escape, and the knowledge of Erik and his sister being your hostages is reminder enough of what will happen if I would only think of breaking my word.”

The king looked expectantly at the younger one, and after a few seconds of hesitation, the Earl of Lindelborn slumped his shoulders and let go of the king's tunic he had crumpled in his hands without even noticing it. He looked at Richard, and the king could see his eyes glistening with unshed tears, an unexpected but appreciated display of his emotions. “Fair enough, we have a deal, sire,” Robert agreed, using the a little less formal 'sire' instead of 'your majesty' for the first time since his extortion. He slowly went to the door but paused before opening it.

“I hate myself for what I had to do much more than you, Erik or Marian could ever hate me, sire, I hope you know that. I am more sorry for taking Erik and Lisa as hostages than you'll ever know, and I am truly sorry that I had to gouge you like that. You can't loathe me more than I already loathe myself for this.” His features still showed his inner fights and struggles, and Richard felt his own expression softening.

“Yes, Robert of Lindelborn, I believe you. You are a man of great honor, who has just had the misfortune of becoming a pawn in the hands of much more powerful and much less honorable men yourself. I don't bear a grudge against you. You are not responsible for my imprisonment, and you are the emperor's loyal knight and have to do what's in his interest in the first place. Just keep your promise and see to _our_ safety,” the English sovereign smiled briefly at the dark-haired earl as he emphasized the word 'our', “and I will keep mine and talk to your Marian.”

Robert swallowed, audibly. “That would be too kind of you, sire. I will stay forever in your debts, then.” He bowed before the king of England, a deep and honest bow the impressive warrior surely reserved for a few people, only, silently opening and closing the door behind him and leaving a thoughtful Richard behind.

 

***

 

Marian felt nervous like hell when he knocked on the door of the English ruler. Robert had only told him that he would serve him during their stay in Worms, his face an unreadable mask and his voice terse and impassive, and the young squire had had a hard time by keeping up appearances. He was still so angry with his lord, but he simply couldn't stop loving him, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that it would be for the better. Instead, all he had wanted to do was to go down on his knees and beg Robert to forgive him his own hurtful behavior and to tell him that this was only a nightmare he would wake up from any time soon.

That Erik would be here with them when he did, serving his beloved lionheart while he himself served his beloved Robert, and that all of them were happy again.

But, there was no waking up, and Marian had hung his head as he had reluctantly made his way to the upper floor where the king of England resided, feeling as if someone had tied heavy weights to his feet.

“Come in!” the king called after one second, and Marian hesitantly opened the door to peer through the slit. Would the English sovereign be angry with him? Would he think that he had had anything to do with Robert's extortion? Richard hadn't left any sign that he thought that during their long ride, but Marian had never been alone with him on their journey, Robert himself, Lars or Sven had always been within earshot, and the English monarch wasn't the man to argue with an unimportant squire in front of others.

Richard had stood by his bed and now turned around. “Marian, why don't you come in? I'm not going to bite you,” he said with friendly mockery when the shorter one simply stayed where he stood, halfway in the doorway and like frozen in place. The young squire cautiously entered the room fully and closed the door behind him, casting his eyes down.

“My lord told me that you want me to serve you here in Worms, your highness,” he mumbled, “I feel honored that you've found me worthy enough to do that.”

He couldn't see the kings face with his eyes staring at his own boots, but he could literally hear him rolling his eyes at his behavior by the tone of his slightly impatient voice.

“Marian, will you please stop behaving that servilely? What has gotten into you all of a sudden? 'Sire' will do more than fine as long as we're alone with each other, and as far as I remember, I've never given you a reason to fear me like you obviously do!” The king stepped closer, and the gentleness of his hand as he laid his fingers under Marian's chin to make him look up betrayed his feigned annoyance.

The young squire gazed up at the older man through his thick eyelashes, and the approving smile he got in return relaxed him enough that he finally remembered how to breathe properly again. Marian took a deep breath to calm himself down and dared to return the smile.

“I am so sorry, your highn... sire, I really didn't know about Lord Robert's plan...” he stammered, hating himself for his disloyalty towards the man he loved with all his heart. Maybe, he should have taken the blame, saying that it had been his idea, but he simply couldn't bring himself to utter such a lie. If anything, he would have offered himself as a hostage – if he had only known about Robert's decision. The worst thing about it was that Robert hadn't told him about that himself. This was the reason why Marian felt so angry and betrayed in the first place. He had listened to Lars and Sven talking about it during their first rest after leaving the castle, when their horses had stopped by a creek and in the evening, he had cornered his beloved lord and asked him whether or not they had spoken the truth. Robert's expression had been enough, his lover hadn't had to say anything to make Marian realize the truth.

Ever since then, Marian had avoided his presence and stayed close to the twins who wondered about his strange behavior but luckily didn't ask him about it. He felt heartbroken and craved to make up with Robert again, but he didn't know how to do that, and he also couldn't risk anyone here in Worms knowing about their relationship. Robert was supposed to take a bride sooner rather than later, and the emperor learning about his sinful love to his squire would probably lead to both of them losing their heads.

As he now gazed into the king's eyes, he found nothing than kindness and understanding there, and it made his own eyes fill with the tears he had suppressed for days by now.

“I know, Marian. I didn't think that you've had anything to do with that, and Robert has also made perfectly clear that he is the only one responsible for the mess that has come out of this. The truth is that I consider you as my only ally here among all those greedy harpies, you, Robert and his soldiers, actually. He might have gouged me, but he has never tried to lie to me so far, and I do understand why he did what he did.”

The king's smile deepened, becoming sad and regretful, and Marian's eyes became big with surprise, his astonishment letting him forget about his grief. “You do? You are not angry with him, sire?” he asked, amazed, and Richard let go of his chin with a gentle shake of his head. He crossed the room to sit down on the large bed, patting on the mattress beside him in an inviting gesture.

Marian slowly stepped closer, sitting down on the very edge of the bed next to the monarch, ready to jump up to his feet again at any time. “Don't be so shy, young knave,” the king said, flinching a little bit when the nickname he normally reserved for his beloved Erik unconsciously slipped from his lips. Marian could see that Richard was lost in his memories about his time with Marian's best friend, and that he hadn't meant to make a move on him with this petname, at all. Marian felt honored that the impressive and still powerful ruler considered him as trustworthy enough to share his thoughts and feelings with him, and he felt curiosity about what the king might want to talk about with him rising in his guts.

He relaxed, letting down his guard for the first time within days and returning the king's intense gaze without hiding his own feelings. Richard waited until he had seated himself more comfortably beside him, silently clearing his throat when he was sure that he had Marian's full attention.

“No, I'm not angry with your lord, Marian. I understand that you feel anger because of your best friend, and it honors you that you care about Erik's and Lady Lisa's well-being and happiness so much. If I had to guess, then I would say that you would have preferred to stay on Castle Trifels with them, offering yourself as Robert's hostage if you had known about your earl's decision.”

Marian blushed and nodded his head, and the king smiled at him again. “Yes, I thought so. You must understand that the Earl of Lindelborn has sworn the oath to represent Heinrich VI.'s interests, and his interests, only. He signs responsible for me staying the emperor's hostage with his good name, his honor and his own life during his highness' absence, and his family and his charges will suffer the consequences if he won't be able to do that. He is as much a prisoner of the circumstances as I am or as Erik and his sister are. Yes, he should have talked to you, Marian, he should have told you what he had to do. But, he didn't do that because he wanted to spare you. He didn't want you having to lie to your best friend, and he didn't want the weight of this knowledge pressing down on your shoulders because he loves you far too deeply to do that to you. He cares about your well-being more than about his own, and he'd rather live with you hating him and being there for Erik and Lisa than involving you in his deeds. Your earl is a man of great honor and honesty, and lying to you and hiding his intentions from you was surely one of the hardest things to do, except for taking my young knave and his sister as prisoners, that is.”

The English monarch went silent, giving Marian the time he needed to digest the news. The young man had to admit that he hadn't thought about how Robert himself felt about what he had done, even more because the dark-haired knight had appeared so unmoved and self-controlled within the last days. Marian realized with dismay that this had only been to not show his vulnerability and despair too openly, something he couldn't do in front of the emperor and his court without losing his face and reputation. Robert was a warrior down to his bones, and his duties came always first, no matter how he felt about them. The man he admired and loved so much would never let his feelings interfere with his duties, and protecting the royal hostage and his entourage was the most important thing to him, regardless of what he wanted and needed himself.

Marian bit his lips, the strong wave of regret and shame about his own behavior surging through him tightening his throat. The king waited patiently for him to come to terms with his emotions, probably knowing which inner turmoil he had to overcome at the moment.

When the young squire finally looked up at him again, the English ruler laid his hand upon his shoulder. “Your earl needs you, Marian, now more than ever. He can't go through this without you. He needs to know that you're still loving him and that you will forgive him for what he had to do. Plus, I need both of you to go through the court council. My own brother would rather see me dead than return to my country and my people, and the same goes for the king of France. His highness expects me to agree to each of his conditions and in case I'll do that, I'll depend on his mercy for at least several more months because of the huge amount of ransom money I'll have to pay for my freedom. You and Robert are the only allies I have here, because Lars and Sven might be great fighters, but they don't know anything about politics and conspiracies, and you two are the only ones I can truly trust. So will you please at least think about the possibility of finding some forgiveness for him in your heart, young knave?”

This time, Richard the Lionheart used the nickname on purpose, and Marian felt warmth pooling in his abdomen, the warmth of relief and cautious hope that perhaps, Robert would be willing to explain himself to him and that they would overcome their quarrel and find back to the relationship based on deep trust and love they've had before Marian had learned about his gambit.

He beamed widely at the older man without thinking that he might overstep a line with that, and Richard's pleased expression told him that his excited smile was appreciated and taken the right way. “I don't need to think about that, at all, sire. I know for sure that I will be able to forgive him, and I want to thank you for having opened my eyes for my own stupidity. I can only hope that he will forgive me, as well, because I fear that I have hurt him with my sulking, seriously.”

Richard patted his arm before he stood up to go to the window once more. “Robert of Lindelborn loves you, of course he will forgive you, Marian,” he said, his voice wistful and filled with the love he felt for his own young knave.

Marian stood up, too, taking the crumpled tunic to smooth out the creases a little bit. “I hope so, sire,” he sighed, gathering all of his courage for his next words. “I swear to you that I will never betray the trust and faith you have in me. I will do my very best to make your stay here in Worms as bearable as possible, and you don't have to fear that I will talk to anyone about the things you've told me. I will prove myself worthy your trust, and I will be your confident whenever you'll need someone to talk to.” he swallowed, amazed about his boldness, but Richard turned his gaze to gift him with one of his rare, honest smiles and an almost tender gaze.

“Thank you, Marian. Your words mean a lot to me. I know that Erik trusts you, and I am willing to show you the same trust.” Richard considered him for a long moment before gesturing to his bags. “Now, that this is out of the way, would you please see to me being presentable when I'll have to bend my knee before the emperor?”

Marian's mouth hurt from his wide smile, and he eagerly nodded his head. “Of course, your majesty! I will be the best squire you've ever had – except for Erik, of course!” he exclaimed, using the official address to show the king that he valued him as highly as the emperor himself, probably even higher after what he knew about both rulers. Richard acknowledged his salute with a nod and a smile. “I'm sure that you'll do that, easily, Marian. There is no one else I'd like to serve me than you when Erik can't be with me,” he replied with sincerity audible in his warm and dark voice.

Marian saw the longing for the one who couldn't be here with him in the king's brown eyes, and in this moment, he swore another oath to himself, the oath to protect Richard the Lionheart with his own life and bring him back to his own young knave, unharmed and well, no matter what he would have to do to make that happen.

 

_The view on the Dahner Burgengruppe (group of three castles) from the distance:_

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a request: Please let me know whether you would like to read about the court council itself, Richard defending himself in front of the emperor and finally agreeing to his demands, or if you would prefer the next chapter to be about their way back to Castle Trifels with only a short flashback of the happenings in Worms. A chapter about the court council would surely be pure fiction, but I really want you to decide what you would like to read about next. :-)


	14. June, the 25th, 1193: The Court Council In Worms, Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard and his entourage have arrived in Worms, and Erik's lionheart has to agree to emperor Heinrich's conditions if he doesn't want to endanger Erik's and Lisa's lives...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Arrested, I managed to write another chapter today, and I went with your request and wrote about the possible happenings in Worms.
> 
> There are only little information about this fateful day, and this chapter is purely and entirely fictional. I borrowed Thomas Tuchel, the trainer of the BVB, and Oliver Kirch, a former Dortmunder player, as Heinrich's personal guards, being Sir Thomas and Sir Olivier here, but Markward of Annweiler is a historical person, he was the seneschal of Heinrich for several years.  
> The lines written in italics are the historically confirmed conditions Richard had to fulfill, only the way Markward announces them is how I imagined such announcements to be in the Middle Ages. The real Richard agreed to all of them except for the military support during Heinrich's campaign against Sicily, and they fixed another condition instead of that which is hidden in the darkness of several centuries. Our historians don't know anything about this promise, and I was so bold to come up with something that fits in perfectly in my evil imagination, I hope you will like the solution I've found... ;-P You will learn more about it in the next chapter.
> 
> Enjoy the new chapter of my rather poor attempt to write a historical epic, and please let me know what you think about this chapter!

The noise filling the great hall of the guildhall was remarkably loud, regarding that hardly two hundred spectators had found their places on the wooden benches settled in five long rows at each of the two long sides of the large room. For the rubbernecks crowding outside the large half-timbered house in the vain hope that they would be able to catch up some of the things happening inside, it must sound as if at least three bee colonies had been freed inside by a careless individual, buzzing angrily because of the disturbance of their usual routine.

The windows were wall-mounted right under the dark-wooded ceiling, too high and too small for the unluckier people having to be only random watchers to peer through them, but some of the young fellers tried nonetheless, climbing each other's shoulders to take a look through them and maybe seeing the emperor honoring their city with his presence and his infamous royal prisoner, Richard the Lionheart, King of England and Duke of the Normandy, in person.

Robert, Earl of Lindelborn, didn't notice all the pushing, shoving and shouting before the entrance to the guildhall of Worms, at all, and he also ignored the curious and appraising glances of the invited aristocrats and citizens following him and his men as he escorted Richard walking behind the young emperor Heinrich VI. to his seat. Heinrich was admittedly an impressive sight in his imperial robe, the long coat, fur-trimmed and colored in the purple-red only monarchs were allowed to wear, blowing around his legs as he strode to his throne-like chair placed in the middle of the short side of the hall opposite the two arched doors of the entrance.

Robert yet found the older English sovereign to be the more impressive and remarkable ruler of the two powerful men. He knew that he shouldn't feel this way, but he just couldn't help it. Robert had always been a loyal henchman to his emperor but, over the pas months, he had come to not only know Richard I. much better than his own ruler, but also to appreciate him much more. Heinrich hadn't fought in the Holy Land like Richard the Lionheart had done, and he had simply taken advantage of the opportunity that had offered itself to him that generously when Leopold of Austria had trapped the homecoming crusader and asked Heinrich to take him as his hostage because he had more power and could enforce their claims much easier than the duke himself.

The accusations the emperor used to keep Richard as his hostage were only partly true, but Heinrich was too clever to let the huge amount of money the English sovereign would have to pay for his freedom slip through his fingers. It wasn't as if the young earl couldn't understand the imperial ruler, he needed the money badly for his campaign against Sicily, but understanding Heinrich's motivation didn't necessarily mean that the dark-haired earl had to approve and appreciate it.

Richard of England wore his own royal coat, and even though Heinrich had briefly narrowed his eyes at the taller king's appearance, he yet hadn't said anything against it, probably sensing that he would only fuel on Richard's defiance if he tried to degrade him to a simple prisoner. They walked in an appropriate distance to the young emperor though, and Robert considered Heinrich's personal guards and his right hand, the seneschal Markward of Annweiler. Heinrich trusted Markward with his own life, and he, his guards and Robert and his men were the only ones allowed to wear their weapons in the emperor's presence.

The mass of the aristocrats and rich citizens of Worms had risen to their feet when the seneschal had announced the emperor's arrival before falling down to their knees and lowering their heads to the ground, but Robert could feel two hundred pairs of nosy eyes upon their backs as Heinrich made his way to his throne, seating himself on it with one single, fluent move.

Markward of Annweiler sat down on the smaller chair at his left side while his guards took up position behind the throne, their right hands coming to rest on the hilts of their swords. Sir Thomas and Sir Olivier were Heinrich's personal guards ever since he had been a young boy, and their loyalty was out of the question. They would die for their emperor without hesitation, and Robert felt relief that he wasn't the only one here in this hall willing to protect the two rulers with his own life.

Richard walking before him had reached the throne by now and bent his knee before the younger one like the spectators did. His posture was still proud and unbroken, and Robert had to admire him for his ability to bestow honor without damaging the aura of power and pride that still surrounded him. Robert as the head of the guards having to see to their safety followed the king's example, but he held his head up high enough to watch the audience and the doors of the hall due to him being the most experienced warrior of the king's guards and also the closest one to him, observing the hall with attentive eyes. Lars and Sven had stopped by the large wooden doors to make sure that no assassin would be able to enter the hall without them noticing it, instantly, and more guards were placed between the rows of the benches and at the three smaller doors leading to the library, the mayor's office and another, smaller office.

The throne the young emperor was seated on stood on a pedestal and the golden crown he wore on his head increased the impression of power and greatness as much as it boosted his height, but as strange as it was, the power and greatness emanating from the man kneeling before this pedestal seemed to overlay the German ruler's aura with surprising ease, at least in Robert's opinion.

Heinrich stared down at Richard's shock of chin-long brown hair, and Robert halfway suspected him to give a demonstration of his power by letting his hostage stay on his knees, but after several very long seconds, he lifted his right hand in a gracious gesture.

“Stand up, Richard of England.” He pointed at the single chair that stood in the middle between the rows of the wooden benches, and Richard followed the unspoken order with one last bow and sat down on it as elegantly as Heinrich had done it. “Thank you, your highness.” His voice sounded firm and rather unmoved, and the Earl of Lindelborn was sure that no one but he himself noticed the faintest hint of hoarseness in it. Richard was trained to keep up appearances at all costs, and the young knight felt a wave of pride surging through him. Pride of the king's behavior, but also pride that he was the one allowed to see to his safety.

Robert straightened himself and stood behind the king's seat, mirroring the posture of the emperor's guards by laying his hand upon the hilt of his sword. He was used to standing motionlessly for hours, and he suspected that he would have to prove his skills when it came to that on this fateful day more than only a little bit. For one short moment, he allowed his eyes to travel to the place in the first row where Marian was sitting, his first squire and wonderful lover.

Richard had kept his promise and talked to Marian, and when Robert had come back to the king a couple of hours later, the young man who had trapped his heart without any chance of ever giving it back had shyly smiled at him, his cheeks coloring pink with his uncertainty and the hope that Robert would smile back.

The dark-haired earl had not only smiled at him but taken Marian in his arms for one short but precious moment, burying his nose in his fragrant hair and whispering hoarse words of love and longing into his ear. When Marian had lifted his head to look him in the eyes, Robert hadn't been able to resist and stolen one passionate kiss from him, while the English monarch had turned to the window once more to give them some privacy.

Their kiss and Marian's unexpected forgiveness had revived his spirits, and as Robert now met Marian's eyes, he could see the love hidden underneath the thin layer of impassiveness. The older man didn't try to smile at him but averted his gaze to observe the next row, knowing how hard it was for Marian to keep the stern expression on his face and not wanting to make it harder for him than it already was.

Heinrich's seneschal started to announce the conditions of Richard's discharge once more, pulling silent gasps and sounds of surprise from the audience holding their breaths. Heinrich's court had known about them beforehand, having been in Hagenau, as well, but the citizens of Worms hadn't and for them, they were extraordinary and hard to digest.

_“Richard II., King Of England, Duke of the Normandy, Earl of Maine and Earl of Anjou, will pay hundred thousand silver-mark, which match twenty-three tons of silver-marks.”_

Robert had heard this sum beforehand, but he had to swallow, nevertheless, knowing that it was the double annual income of the English crown. Richard would have a hard time to raise this incredibly huge amount of money, and the breathless cries of some of the spectators proved to him that he wasn't the only one shivering by the mere thought of this enormous ransom demand.

Richard didn't flinch, but his shoulders were tensed, and Robert was sure that his lips were pressed to a thin line although he couldn't see the king's face.

Heinrich didn't smile, but he looked pleased by Markward's announcement, and his relaxed posture made obvious that he had another ace up his sleeve. “You know that your brother John Lackland and the king of France offered me the same sum in case I'll decide to keep you as my hostage for longer?”

Robert looked down at Richard's crown-less hair as the king nodded his head. “Yes, your highness, you have been so gracious to inform me about that earlier.” His voice hadn't lost its firmness, Richard had indeed known about the conspiracy between his younger brother and Philipp II. before, and this was nothing new for him.

Heinrich pursed his lips and tapped with his fingers onto the armrests of his throne. “I would prefer you agreeing to my conditions, my dear Richard, but their offer is nothing I can simply ignore, you have to understand this.”

Richard nodded again. “Of course, your highness.”

Seemingly disappointed by the English king's reaction, Heinrich waved at his seneschal to go on.

_“Richard II. of England will grant the emperor, Heinrich VI., his support with weapons and soldiers during his campaign against Sicily.”_

The tall monarch sitting before Robert lifted his chin up. “I fear that I cannot do that, your highness, I have to see to the safety and protection of my own country and territories, and I have no forces left to support you in Sicily.” His tone made clear that he wouldn't give in to his captor's demands in this point, and Robert unconsciously held his breath as the two powerful rulers measured each other with hard eyes. The Earl of Lindelborn still couldn't see Richard's face, but he knew how the king looked like when he was displeased and determined to keep the upper hand.

Heinrich's jaw worked as he returned Richard's challenging stare, weighing the options he had in this matter. The hall had gone completely silent, one could have heard a thin needle falling down onto the stony ground.

“We will discuss this point later in more private surroundings,” the emperor eventually decided after long minutes of a wordless battle between them had passed, and Markward of Annweiler cleared his throat and continued with the other conditions after one look at his imperial superior.

_“King Isaak Komnenos and his daughter are to be released from their imprisonment on Cyprus.”_

Richard hesitated but then, nodded his head curtly at this condition. Heinrich relaxed in his seat, slowly unclenching his fists on the armrests.

_“Richard II.'s niece, Eleonore of Brittany, will be married to Friedrich I., son of Leopold V., to form a strong bond of alliance.”_

Richard had heard about all of the conditions before this day, but his sharp inhale proved to Robert how much he hated the thought of having to agree to a such a political marriage with the son of one of his biggest enemies. Yet, he didn't object, only his nod of agreement was hardly visible this time.

Markward waited for one more moment, and when neither of the rulers said anything, he went on with the next point.

_“Richard II., called the Lionheart, will advocate for Duke Leopold V. by the Holy Father Coelestin III., so the excommunication will be undone and the Duke become a child of the Holy Church again.”_

Richard sat up straighter than before if this was even possible, and his voice filled the entire hall without him having to raise it. “I will write a petition to the Holy Father and ask him to reconsider his decision, but you know that imprisoning a crusader right after his return from the Holy Land is a serious crime against the Holy Church. Even more if this crusader is on his way to Rome and the Holy Father as a devoted pilgrim. I have no saying in this matter, and I can't guarantee that Pope Coelestin III. will rescind the anathema.”

“We will accept your petition as the fulfillment of this condition, Richard,” Heinrich said after measuring him with his sharp gaze once more. Richard's move had been a clever one, the dark-haired earl thought with a hidden smile wanting to curl on his lips. Of course, Richard had had no intention to actually visit Rome and the Holy Father on his way back to England, but Heinrich couldn't be sure about that, and the English monarch and famous crusader had certainly impressed the members of Heinrich's court and the citizens of Worms with his words.

“You agree to all of the points written in this contract except for the support of my campaign against Sicily, then?” the emperor wanted to know, and Richard gave a final nod after one more second of reluctance. “Yes, your highness.”

“We will withdraw then and discuss this point in private.” The young ruler stood up, and the rustling and scraping sounds from countless shoes and robes proved that the spectators rose to their feet, as well.

Richard's movements had an edge that hadn't been there before as he stood to follow the emperor to the mayor's office, but Robert doubted that anyone else than him, Marian and perhaps Lars and Sven noticed that. His back was straight and his posture proud, though, and Robert walking behind him felt another wave of sympathy for the English sovereign and anger on his behalf surging through him. This man didn't deserve this treatment, at all, and he also didn't deserve the treason his useless brother had committed when he had conspired with the French king.

Sir Olivier and Sir Thomas waited at the open door to let Richard and Robert pass before closing it, locking the disappointed crowd out from the upcoming negotiations.

Heinrich VI. unceremoniously seated himself behind the desk where normally the mayor of Worms saw to the needs of his city and her inhabitants, while Markward and his two personal guards came to stand beside and behind him. There was one chair before the wooden table which Richard took for himself when his captor beckoned him to sit down again.

“I have to say that I am not pleased with your denial, Richard,” he told the older monarch without any pleasantries that would have caused a nicer atmosphere between the two opponents, but Richard seemed to welcome Heinrich's blatant openness.

“This is unfortunate but not within my power to change, your highness,” the king of England stated rather unmoved. “Granting you what you want from me would lead to chaos in my own territories, especially England, which is suffering ever since John betrayed me, and me risking more suffering and chaos among my people wouldn't help you, anyway. I'm willing to hear your suggestions to make up for my refusal, and in case that we won't find something suitable, I'm sure that increasing the ransom money will make up for this condition more than enough.”

Robert standing behind Richard's seat again almost gulped for air, because twenty-three tons of silver-marks were more than he could only imagine, and increasing this incredible sum was definitely beyond his imaginative power.

Heinrich tilted his head to the side with narrowed eyes. “Hm, this would indeed make me inclined to discard this point and replace it with another one.” His gaze wandered to his young earl, and Robert felt a sudden queasiness pooling in his stomach, because Heinrich's expression could only be called predatory and sly. It was obvious that whatever it was that had come into his mind – it would definitely involve Robert himself, and this not as the head of his royal hostage's guards, but in another way Robert wouldn't like, at all, that much was clear to see.

The young emperor's eyes never left his earl's face as he addressed Richard again. “You have a lot of nieces, don't you, my royal friend?” Robert had to suppress a violent flinch, and even Richard shifted his weight in his chair.

“Yes, this is the truth, your highness. What are you thinking of, regarding my nieces? Is there another alliance you want to build by a marriage between one of my nieces and one of your henchmen?”

Heinrich leaned back in his seat and smiled. “Yes, indeed. Tell me Richard the Lionheart, which of your countless female relatives would be the perfect bride for one of my most loyal earls, who fulfills his duties with such great care and devotion? Which one of your nieces is young, beautiful and interesting enough to be the perfect bride for Robert, the Earl of Lindelborn?”

 

***

 

_In the meantime on Castle Trifels:_

 

Five days had passed since Erik had learned about his lord's gambit, and he was still fuming with rage. The mere thought of the dark-haired earl made him bare his teeth, and he found himself incapable of calming down and behaving as if nothing had happened. Oscar had become his loyal companion when he climbed the steep stairs to one of the towers of the proud castle, searching for a place where he could stay without having to face Robert's men or – even worse – the one who was as responsible for the hostage-taking of him and his sister, Blondel, the bard of his lionheart, and his rival when it came to Richard's love.

Jakub and Roman had tried to explain Robert's deed to him, had assured him that Marian hadn't known anything about it, but Erik hadn't wanted to listen to them and just turned around and stormed back to the king's rooms, throwing himself upon his bed and crying his heart out, shedding hot tears of anger and cold, bitter tears of sorrow at the same time.

Oscar had followed him and sat beside him, offering comfort by his silent, unobtrusive presence. One look at his face had been enough to convince Erik about Oscar's innocence, the young man, hardly more than a boy yet, had looked so shocked and angry that there had been no doubt about his ignorance about the earl's admittedly very clever move.

The only thing that really bothered him was that he had to lie to his sister and that he had to avoid her company as best as he could, because Lisa knew him by heart, and he wouldn't be able to hide this knowledge and his anger from her. To her misfortune and his luck, her morning sickness and some other minor ailments had forced her to stay in her rooms most of the time, and he might be her brother, but visiting a pregnant lady in her private rooms was nothing young men could do without causing problems. Lisa's abigail Susanna – which had also been her nurse right from her birth on – watched her with eagle eyes, and even though she loved Erik as if he was her own son, but she commanded a strict regiment over her little empire, and Erik knew better than to risk Susanna's wrath and disapproval.

Now, five days later, Erik still tried to wrap his head around the fact that he couldn't leave the castle, and he now knew how Richard must have felt ever since Leopold of Austria had captured him. If the earl had thought that this would keep Erik from thinking of coming to Richard's help in case that the English sovereign actually wanted to escape, then he had reached the opposite, because Erik now was more determined to help him than he had ever been before this.

Today was June, the 25th, the day Richard had to justify himself before the council again, and him knowing about Erik's and Lisa's fate would probably force him to cooperate and agree to Heinrich's impudent and unjustified demands.

Erik longed to be there with him, he craved to serve his lionheart and make his stay in Worms and among all of his opponents at least bearable, and the image of Marian being so close to his king while he himself was so far away, trapped and desperate, turned his stomach and made him want to retch.

The young squire had climbed the tower again, and the two guards looking for unexpected visitors and possible attackers had only nodded their heads in a short greeting and then, turned their backs on him to give him the privacy he had been searching for.

He had told Oscar to leave him alone for a while, and the young servant had hesitantly agreed and promised to clean the rooms and see to Erik's and Richard's clothes while Erik was away – those the king had had to leave behind on his way to Worms.

“Here you are, Erik of Thanstein, I've been looking for you for days by now.” Blondel had the annoying habit of suddenly appearing out of the blue, and Erik didn't bother to hide his annoyance about the disturbance from him.

“And the fact that you hadn't been able to find me didn't give you the hint that I didn't want to be found, and surely not by you of all people?” he gave back, angry with himself that his voice trembled noticeably.

Blondel sat down on the crenel beside him. His grin was carefree and unaffected, and he only shrugged his shoulders. “Oh, it did, Erik of Thanstein.”

“I see. So you chose to ignore my wish to stay alone on purpose,” Erik stated with a sigh.

“I thought you could use some company in your misery, after all, I'm a prisoner here myself.” Blondel kept the smile on his face, but his eyes were slightly narrowed, and their expression was furtive and appraising.

“Which is only your own fault, no one asked you to come here, right?” Erik wasn't willing to find any understanding for the blond minstrel in his heart. “Me having become a prisoner is your doing, as well, by the way, so don't expect me to pity you, minstrel!”

Blondel pulled a face as if he had bitten into something sour. “This was only your lord's doing, not mine. The emperor's doing by capturing my king Richard in the first place, actually. We're both trapped here, and we both love my king Richard, deeply, so we should stick together and console each other in our shared misery rather than fight against one another the entire time, don't you think so, Erik of Thanstein?”

“No, we shouldn't. It is your fault that I can't leave the castle and that I had to lie to my sister yesterday when she asked me to accompany her on a walk through the forest. I couldn't tell her that she is the Earl of Lindelborn's hostage, no way. I'm not sure that she believed me when I told her that the weather would be too hot for such a walk, but she was too sick to argue with me. I've never spoken the untruth to her in my entire life until yesterday, and I hold you responsible for me having had to lie to Lisa for the first time in my life!”

Blondel was clearly not impressed by Erik's snapping. On the contrary, his smile deepened, and he moved closer and bent forward to make sure that the two guards pacing up and down on the other side of the tower wouldn't listen to him.

His amber-golden eyes sparkled, and Erik felt the strange flutter in his stomach again he always felt when the good-looking bard came too close to him. His scent was enticing, a mixture of fresh sweat, herbals and the soap he had used to shave, and Erik swallowed dryly and lifted his chin up in defiance, not wanting to give his confusion about his inappropriate feelings away.

“I'm sorry for you having had to lie to your sister, Erik,” Blondel now said, and his voice sounded sincerely and honestly. “Lady Lisa is a true lady and she doesn't deserve to be treated this way. There would be others deserving that much more. But, you not being able to leave the castle is not true, Erik of Thanstein. I know a way to sneak you out of the castle for some hours, so what do you think? Do you want to leave Castle Trifels and take a walk outside with me? Are you brave enough to rebel against your lord's gambit and taste the flavor of freedom on your tongue for a few hours again?”

 

_Castle Spangenberg in all its glory, the home of Conrad of Spangenberg, one of Erik's opponents during the tournament:_

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, yes, two really bad cliffhangers, evil me is back and very much enjoying herself because of the way both parts of this chapter end. (Hides behind her laptop with a pleased grin). And no, no, no, don't kill me with your looks, because I won't be able to write the new chapter, then!


	15. June, the 25th, 1193: The Court Council In Worms, Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard and Heinrich negotiate about the last condition that has to replace Richard's military support...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Arrested, this story becomes longer and longer. I decided to split the next chapter in two because it would have become too long otherwise, and because I didn't want to keep you in suspense for too long. The next one will be about Erik and Blondel, and the one following the next one about the night following this chapter...

Silence had fallen over the rather dark office after Heinrich's question, both rulers eyeing each other impassively in the attempt to find out what the other one was up to.

Robert standing behind Richard's chair hadn't been able to keep the small, quiet sound fleeing his lips inside, and Richard could only hope that he had been the only individual in this room noticing the horror and the disgust this tiny sign of the earl's disapproval and despair had revealed to his ears. The king was actually surprised about the pity he felt for the younger man after what Robert had done to his sweet young knave, and the strong wave of protectiveness for the young earl surging through him amazed him even more.

Why would he want to protect his most rigorous and merciless guard when this guard had been the one separating Erik and him in this cruel and unexpected way? Yet, he couldn't fight his feelings, and when Heinrich's features grew impatient, he cleared his throat and sat up straighter.

“There might indeed be one of my nieces suitable for your loyal lord, your highness,” he started, just to pull another strangled noise from his strict guard that sounded even more desperate than the first one if this was possible. Richard resisted the urge to turn his head and look at him, he didn't need to see Robert's face to know that the earl had paled and that his normally tanned skin most likely had gotten a greenish undertone.

“And whom of your countless nieces are you thinking of, Richard?” Heinrich asked, curiously, his eager voice the audible proof that he hoped to expand his territories and his power with such a marriage. Richard allowed himself a brief, feignedly innocent smile, because he knew that the German emperor wouldn't be too pleased with his suggestion.

“My niece Richenza, the daughter of my dear sister Mathilde, who has died far too young.” The third sound making its way to his ear came from five throats this time, uttered in perfect unison, only sounding differently, four times surprised and one time utterly terrified. Richard hadn't thought of such a possibility himself beforehand, but he knew about the complicated relationship between Duke Heinrich the Lion and the emperor. Heinrich VI. had negotiated a peace treaty with his namesake a couple of years ago, but the political situation was still tensed, and such an alliance formed by another marriage would increase the young emperor's influence and power, a lot.

Richenza didn't have rich possessions, but her value wasn't to underestimate, and Heinrich pursed his lips in a musing way as he thought about Richard's suggestion. Robert's breathing was flat and a little bit uneven as he waited for his ruler's decision, and another wave of pity shot through the English sovereign. He had been forced into a marriage with a wife he didn't know and didn't love himself, and he knew quite well how the young earl must feel at the moment. His wedding with Berengaria had only occurred because of political reasons, and they still weren't husband and wife in every sense of the meaning. Richard had never taken his wife in his bed, and he avoided the mere thought of her.

“Your niece Richenza, Heinrich's daughter, hm, why not? His grace would most likely agree to such a bond without too many objections,” Heinrich now drawled, his eyes wandering forth and back between Richard himself and his young earl. “What do you think about that, Robert? Would the niece of a powerful king, the daughter of a duke, be to your liking?”

Richard still didn't turn to look at the dark-haired knight, knowing that this would only make it harder for him, but he truly admired him for his attitude and self-control when Robert replied after two or three seconds. “I feel honored that you consider my humble self worthy enough to become the husband of his majesty's niece, your highness.” The tightness of his throat he certainly felt let Robert's voice sound slightly hoarse, but the young emperor either didn't notice it, or took it for astonishment. Maybe, he even knew his lord well enough to sense that Robert wasn't pleased by the prospect of being married to an unknown young lady any time soon, but didn't care about his loyal knight's feelings, this was hard to tell.

Heinrich obviously had enough of this discussion, because he clapped his hands and turned to his seneschal. “You will fix this point, Markward. In case that this marriage won't take place for some reasons, my royal friend Richard will agree to pay one-and-a-half of the originally sum of ransom money, which would be one hundred and fifty thousand silver-mark, then.”

The English sovereign had expected something like this, after all, Heinrich's first intention had been to get his military support in Italy, and with another fifty thousand silver-mark, he could buy the soldiers and weapons he needed, rather easily. “Of course, your highness,” was all he said, not willing to give his captor an insight into his inner turmoil.

The younger ruler looked a little bit disappointed by his calm. “We will need another guarantee that you will keep your word and that you will do everything you can to raise the money as quickly as possible. I would suggest that you'll choose two hundred aristocrats among your people who will enjoy our hospitality until the money will be paid to the last coin.”

Richard raised one eyebrow at this impudent demand. “Two hundred, your highness? This seem to be too many. Are you sure that you can expand your generous hospitality to such extents?”

“I don't think that two hundred are too many, my royal friend. I am convinced that your people will gladly do everything they can to accelerate your early return to your own country. And don't worry about my hospitality, it is endless as you should know by now yourself.” The young emperor didn't bother to hide his smugness about being the one having the power to pull the strings as it pleased him.

He stood, letting his seneschal smooth out the creases of his imperial coat. “I have to admit that this straining day has made me thirsty and hungry. Let's celebrate that we've found to an understanding that quickly, I want you to be my most honored guest during the feast this evening, my dear Richard.” He averted his eyes from the king of England who had risen to his feet together with him to smile at his earl. “The same goes for you, of course, my dear Robert of Lindelborn. One of your brave warriors can take your place tonight and see to my dear friend's safety. I'm sure that you want to celebrate your forthcoming marriage together with me, isn't that so?”

Robert's face indeed showed a greenish color as Richard finally gazed at him. His normally piercing blue eyes were dark with his despair, and the poor man looked more like wanting to vomit rather than wanting to celebrate, but he only nodded his head and said, his voice flat and strangled:

“Of course, your highness, it will be my greatest honor and pleasure to join you at the table and celebrate with you.”

 

***

 

It was already darkening outside the great hall of the tower where the feast was still in full swing when Marian followed Richard and Robert to the rooms that suited such an important guest like the English sovereign was the best. Marian still felt helpless anger every time he heard someone call Richard the Lionheart the emperor's 'guest', even though every member of his court and every Wormser citizen knew the difference between a guest and a hostage quite well.

The first was free to go wherever they wanted to go and free to leave whenever they wanted to leave, and neither the first nor the second was a choice the king could make on his own these days. Not until all of the conditions were fulfilled, that is.

Marian standing behind the king he had come to care about that much, serving him during the endlessly ongoing feast, had noticed the lines of tiredness on his face and the signs of exhaustion like the barely visible trembling of his fingers when he had taken the knife lying on his plate or his goblet; and Marian had had a hard time with keeping his features friendly instead of scowling at all the other 'honorable' and oh so greedy guests who might be noble by birth but definitely not by their attitude.

The young squire had thought that Heinrich would never withdraw, sitting, drinking and eating all night long and forcing Richard and his beloved lord to do the same. Robert had looked so pale, and he had eaten hardly anything, quietly sitting at the king's left side and avoiding Marian's worried glances. Marian had thought that they had overcome their quarrel, but as it seemed, he had been wrong with that. He sighed, opening the door leading to the private living room for his king and his lord, briefly wondering when the English sovereign had become his king.

The impressive monarch smiled reassuringly at him before he entered his rooms, followed by Robert still avoiding Marian's eyes much slower. There was a small antechamber between the living room and the king's bedroom, more a small hall, actually, one door leading to the splendid chamber where Richard and Marian slept, and the other one leading to the privy. Robert had decided to sleep in this antechamber on a small cot, making sure that neither the king would be able to escape within the nights, nor that any assassin would be able to kill him in his sleep; and he now headed straight in the direction of this small hall.

Marian opened his mouth to call after him without thinking, but the English sovereign's hand on his shoulder kept him from doing so. He turned his head and gazed up at the taller man with pleading eyes. The lines around Richard's eyes had deepened, but the king smiled at him. “Give your lord some private time, young Marian. I can assure that he is not angry with you. The earl is a proud man and he surely doesn't want to embarrass himself in front of you.”

The silent sounds of someone retching heavily coming from the privy proved that Richard had been right with what he had said, and the young squire swallowed and clenched his fists. Marian bit his lip, craving to run after his beloved Robert and see what was wrong with him, but the king gently pressed him down on one of the chairs before taking another one for himself. The younger one gulped for air, but it was already too late to see to his duties as the king's servant, and all he could do was looking at him again when the impressive ruler relaxed in his seat with an exhausted sigh.

“What is wrong with Robert? Has someone poisoned him? Is he sick? Has he eaten something wrong?” he asked, his voice trembling and his heart clenching in his chest.

Richard shook his head. “No, nothing of this kind, young Marian, don't worry. His sickness is more a sickness of his heart. He will tell you about it when he feels ready for that, so please don't push him. All I can tell you is that he needs you now more than ever, you and your unquestioning love and understanding. Do you think that you can do that for him – for both of us, Marian? Be there for him without question and love him?”

Marian nodded eagerly his head, his fear that Robert was severely ill fading a little bit. “Of course, I can do that! I love him more than anything. I will always be there for him. I know that I have been angry because of what he did to Erik and you, sire, but I am truly sorry for that.”

Richard's smile was gentle. “I know, young Marian, and your lord knows that, too. Please, give me a few minutes when he comes back so I can talk to him alone. Will you see to the necessary things in my bedroom? I will need your help only for the fastenings later on, and I would advice you to sleep in the antechamber with your lord tonight. He won't be in the state to show you his love in a passionate way tonight, which would also not be very wise, because even the thickest walls have ears in this tower, but he will need your warmth and your comfort tonight.”

Marian felt himself blushing furiously, but his smile was filled with gratitude. “Of course, sire. Everything will be to your liking.”

“There is no doubt about that, Marian, you're serving me well.” When Richard nodded at him, approvingly, he stood up to cross the living room and the antechamber with fast steps, sensing that Robert wouldn't want that he saw him when he left the privy after his sickness. He closed the door to the bedroom with a firm sound and walked to the bed to pull at the covers and smooth out the king's bed clothes. The door of the privy opening and closing again told him that Robert must feel at least a little bit better, and he couldn't help but step closer to the door of the bedroom to open it just a tiny bit. Marian knew that he shouldn't do that, but he couldn't resist the chance to find out more about the problem that was obviously troubling his beloved Robert that much.

“Sit down, Robert and drink this, it will help you against the bad taste.” Richard's calm voice sounded through the slit because Robert hadn't closed the other door. Marian pressed himself against the wall, trying to become a small, invisible shadow that would melt with the other shadows in the bedroom that was still rather dark because Marian had enlightened only two candles.

There was a short silence, only the scratching of the chair moving over the wooden floor being audible. “Thank you.” Robert's voice was hoarse from his vomiting. “You must enjoy this very much, mustn't you, sire? This is a suitable revenge for what I did to you, that's for sure.”

Marian flinched by his lord's speaking, the bitterness and the despair making his own heart clench with sorrow and fear. Yet, he felt almost horrified because of Robert's open speech.

“Do you really think so, Robert?” The king didn't seem to mind the way his head-guard was behaving. He kept his calm, and his tone was surprisingly gentle. “It hasn't been me suggesting this, remember? It has been your emperor, and you should have expected something like this to happen sooner rather than later.”

Another silence, then: “Yes, I know. I'm sorry, your highness. I was impudent and have offended you. I will accept each punishment you'll see fit.” Marian felt tears welling up in his eyes when he heard the defeat in Robert's apology, the defeat because of something truly bad beyond the earl's reach. The Earl of Lindelborn was a brave man, one of the bravest men Marian could only imagine, but there were apparently things he couldn't fight against even though Marian couldn't come up with anything Robert would not try to fight but give up before even making an attempt to do so.

“Don't be silly, Robert. I know how you feel and that you are not your true self at the moment, no offense taken, I can assure you. But, there is still hope left. Your emperor is much more interested in the money, that much was clear to see, and nothing will happen before the other conditions will be fulfilled, so you have more time left than you might think.”

“Do you really believe that, your highness?” Robert's tone was pleading now, and Marian angrily wiped one single tear rolling over his face away when he heard the heartbreaking grief in the voice of the man he loved more than life itself.

What the hell where they talking about?

“Yes, I do. Plus, don't call me 'your highness' when we're alone, Robert. I'm not your enemy, I thought that I had already proved that to you.” Richard still sounded calm and gentle, and Marian unconsciously nodded his head. Yes, the king of England had proved more than once that he was of a nobleness Marian had hardly ever seen before, and he was surely not Robert's enemy, even not after the earl taking his beloved young knave as his own hostage.

“Yes, you have, sire, thank you.”

“You need to rest, Robert, and I have to admit that I am tired, as well. Tomorrow, I'll have to talk to the emissary Hubert Walter my mother has sent to Worms to fix everything, and I guess that we'll have to stay one more day here in Worms before we can go back to Castle Trifels. We all have to be well-rested, then, because we both know that our journey back home won't be safer than our journey to Worms.”

“You're probably right with that, sire.” More scratching of two chairs this time made Marian hurry to close the door and flee to the other side of the room, but when Richard appeared in the doorway, gazing silently at him, he realized that he had been caught. The young squire couldn't tell what it was that had given him away, the opened door or his deep-red blush that burned in his cheeks.

The young squire hung his head, crumpling the king's sleeping shirt between his hands. “I'm sorry.”

The English sovereign huffed a sigh and entered the room, fully. “I've heard that far too oftentimes today, especially from your lord and you, young Marian.” A small smile curled at the corners of his sensitive lips, and Marian dared to smile back. “I'm sor...” he bit back what had come out of his mouth, automatically, pulling a short, sad chuckle from the king.

“Don't be. I would probably have done the same. To be honest, I suspected that you would try to find out what's troubling your Robert that much this way.”

“You did, sire?” Marian's blush deepened.

“Yes, I did. No need to be ashamed, young Marian. You didn't want to be nosy and spread out gossip, you were only worried about your lord. But, as I told you before, it's upon him to tell you the reason for his confusion. He will do it when he's ready, don't worry, Marian. Just help me with the fastenings and then, you can go to him and console him. I have to admit that I would appreciate one single night on my own.”

Marian swallowed. “Yes, I can imagine, sire. I will hurry so you will get the rest you need after this day.” He stepped to the king to take the coat from his shoulders and open the fastenings of his robe. His long, blue tunic was adorned with golden and silver threads, and his velvet trousers made of a darker blue gave him a truly royal aura even without crown and coat. Richard stood completely still to make it easier for his squire – his temporary squire, of course, Marian thought. He didn't mind that the king wanted to be alone for some hours, he understood and respected his feelings and hurried with his task to grant the English ruler the privacy he craved for.

“Finished, sire, you should be able to do the rest yourself and without help.” Marian stepped back, and Richard smiled gratefully at him. “Thank you, young Marian, just go and see to your lord, he needs you, badly. Sleep well and don't worry too much.”

Marian returned the smile and said: “thank you, sire, I wish you a good night, too,” before silently crossing the room and closing the door behind him, leaving Richard the Lionheart alone with his heavy thoughts for the first time within one week.

 

_Castle Fleckenstein in France, right after the frontiere to Germany. It lies in the Elsass and not the Pfälzer Wald and has nothing to do with this story, but this photo is too spectacular to not show it to you :-) It is taken from Castle Loewenstein on the other side of the valley._

  



	16. June, the 25th, 1193: On Castle Trifels: Blondel's Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What the title says: Blondel tells his story and how he met Richard the Lionheart to Erik.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Arrested, I managed to write another chapter for you, my clients were nice and stayed away for almost the entire day. It is surely one of the longest of this story, more than 7.200 words. As far as I can tell, the original legend doesn't say much about Blondel's origin and why he became Richard's close friend, only that he traveled through Germany to find him and that he freed him from his dungeon, so I was so free to tell their story in a way I thought believable in the context of the legend. I also think that I've found a way to explain his uncommon name and match it with his 'real' name Marco. I used the Latin form Marcus in here, which is much more common in the England and Germany of the Middle Ages than the modern or Italian version Marco.
> 
> Regarding your comment and the mentioned theory that Richard was homosexual and that this theory is not popular any longer: It could easily be, and Richard having had a wife or slept with other women doesn't speak against it. 
> 
> If one looks more closely at the legend of Blondel, it is more or less a romantic love story. Blondel straying around in old Germany in desperate search of his king and then, singing his serenade to him before the barrs of his dungeon, a song only Blondel and Richard know about, sounds very much like the story of a knight searching for his lady, their song the proof and the sign of their love. It is disguised as a platonic love, friendship, of course, because this legend is pretty old and couldn't include physical desire, but what else should this tale be about, but one lover searching for the other one? In the Middle Ages, homosexual men most likely didn't live out their true desires and needs exclusively, they had to marry to get heirs and keep up appearances, even more if they were kings and aristocrats. The church condemned homosexuality as a sin and Richard was a crusader, so he surely wouldn't have admitted his liking for men, openly. Therefore, my Richard loving his young knave Erik and your Richard maybe having made his experiences with men and flirting with Nicholas might not be as 'fantasy-like' as others want to believe. :-)
> 
> I am well aware that my verison of Richard the Lionheart is a very heroic one and absolutely not historical accurate, but it is how I always wanted him to be, and in this chapter, I wrote him as the brave and heroic knight in shining armor, shamelessly. ;-) I hope you will like him written this way and also the little fairytale I've spun around Blondel and him.
> 
> Dear GoForGoals, I've dedicated this story to Arrested whose wonderful stories about her boys Wamba and Oscar have helped me through some very hard and rough times, but I want to dedicate this chapter especially to you, as well. You're my sister in heart and mind I never had but always longed to have, my kindred soul and mate, and most of all, my beloved friend. Marco-Blondel has sneaked his way into this story because I know how much you love reading stories about him, and I wrote this chapter thinking of you and what you would like. I hope that I managed to do that at least partly, and I want to thank you for everything, my dear. Without you and Arrested, Blue_Night would have stopped existing months ago. <333
> 
> The parts written in italics are the story Blondel tells to Erik. Chapter warning: graphic depictions of violence, description of beating and children abuse, mentioning of non-consensual heterosexual sex between a girl in her late teenage years and a grown up man. I'm sorry for that, but it belongs to those times and to the world Blondel lives in.

Blondel realized his mistake the second he had uttered his suggestion, because the young man sitting on the crenel beside him narrowed his eyes at him with newly awakened mistrust.

“What kind of game is it you are playing here, minstrel?” Richard's young knave snapped, obviously seriously annoyed again. “Is this your attempt to lure me out of the castle so you can use me as your own hostage and gouge your king into freedom with me as your prisoner? Do you really believe that the Earl of Lindelborn would agree to such an exchange? The unimportant son of an unimportant baron in exchange for the powerful king of England? You must be very stupid, then, because my lord will never do that!”

Blondel swallowed, taken aback by Erik's rage. He had expected the innocently looking young man to be more than eager to leave his luxury prison for a while, and he really hadn't thought that the handsome squire would mistake his offer as an attempt to trap him and use him against his lord. The older minstrel knew that he had only one chance left to convince Erik of his honest and true intentions, and he searched desperately for a way to do that without arousing the other one's mistrust any further than he already had.

“No, this isn't what I had in mind, Erik of Thanstein, not the least. I've told you that I am sorry for having tried to use you, and I've meant what I've said and will never try to do that again. I was merely trying to help you and free you from your prison for some time.” Blondel gazed at the younger one from underneath his eyelashes, hoping that the two guards hadn't noticed their quarrel. Erik had kept his voice quiet, but his expression was hard to misread, and if the guards chose this moment to come to this side of the tower, they would know what was going on, instantly.

Erik didn't seem to be convinced, his eyes stayed narrowed and his brows furrowed. “Why would you care so much about me feeling trapped, even more because it is only a rather short and temporary imprisonment with me not having to suffer in a dungeon by only moldy water and hard bread?” he inquired, his youth replacing some of his anger with curiosity that was now audible in his murmured words.

Blondel smiled, sadly. “Because I know the feeling of being trapped so well, Erik of Thanstein. You're right that I've chosen my prison myself this time, and I won't complain about it. But, you didn't, and I know how it feels to be trapped by a more powerful man without any chance to change that yourself more than I would like to ever know it. I have to admit that I have a really bad conscience because of what I did to you without wanting it, and I want to make up for you finding yourself as a hostage at least a little bit.”

Erik considered that for a while, his face unreadable now. “Hm, I see. And from where do you know this feeling so well, minstrel?”

Blondel shot a quick glance in the direction of the two guards. They still ignored them, apparently thinking that Erik would do their watch for them on this side of the tower. Maybe they were right with that and he did, because his gaze wandered to the horizon now and then, attentively observing the landscape bathed in the golden light of the warm June sun. Erik's skin had gotten a golden shimmer over the past days, a clear sign that he had spent a lot of time on top of the castle's towers lately.

“Because I've once been trapped myself without any chance to escape, and I would still be hardly more than a slave if it wasn't for my king Richard,” Blondel said, watching Erik closely. The young squire pursed his lips, intrigued to learn more about his royal lover and his relationship with the man he still regarded as his rival.

“I see,” Erik repeated after a while, averting his eyes from the road where Richard had disappeared a couple of days ago to look Blondel straight into his eyes. “Tell me more about this, and after hopefully knowing the truth instead of having heard another lie coming from you, I might be able to change my not so good opinion about you, minstrel.” His words sounded more like the demand they actually were instead of a request, but the blond minstrel was willing to obey and tell Erik how his king Richard had saved him.

He smiled at the younger one and cleared his throat, shifting his weight to make himself more comfortable on the hard stone of the crenel. “Very well, I will tell you my story and how I met our king Richard, Erik of Thanstein. It is a story I haven't told anyone in a rather long time, and it is also not a story I tell oftentimes, but I am willing to share it with you if this will make you trust me.”

Blondel cleared his throat again and waited until he had Erik's full attention and then, opened his mouth and started to speak.

 

***

 

_The tavern was housed in one of the main streets of Oxford, and it occupied the entire ground floor of the rather large half-timbered house. It was not some kind of drinking hole, but a place where rich merchants stopped to have a meal, some goblets of expensive wine or a room where they could let their tired bones get some rest in a rather comfortable bed in one of the four guest rooms on the upper floor._

_Morris, the owner of the tavern was a tall and rather fat man, earning a good living with the excessive prices he took from his clientele for the meals, the wine and the rooms. He ruled his little empire with a cruel hand, and none of his maids or servants dared to rebel against his way of exploit them. No other innkeeper would hire them if Morris fired them, and they had at least a roof over their heads, a straw mat where they could lay down for a few hours within the short nights, and they were allowed to eat some of the leftovers Morris' clients left on their plates after filling their stomachs from time to time instead of only getting the thin broth or porridge they normally had._

_The young boy carrying two huge wooden buckets filled to the brink with water didn't have such luck, his sleeping place was scratchy woolen blanket thrown in one corner of the taproom and one thin sheet to protect his thin and small body from the cold blowing through the cracks of the house. He stumbled under the weight of the buckets but he didn't complain, struggling to keep his balance and not spill some of the precious water he had brought from the well in the middle of the market place. It was a rather short walk from the well to the tavern, but being a small boy having to carry two large buckets, the way always stretched to miles, and the child was breathing heavily and stumbling again when he slowly turned around to close the door behind him again._

_No one came to his help, neither Morris himself, nor one of his two male helpmates, Gisbert and William knowing that their employer's rage would await them if they did. One of the three barmaids busied at the tables shot the boy a pitiful look before turning away again to smile at one of the young noblemen who had seated themselves at the biggest table in the middle of the room._

_It was still very early in the afternoon and Morris' tavern was empty except for the bunch of aristocrats and four merchants sitting at one of the smaller tables opposite the counter. The young boy bit his lip as he made his way to the counter, circling it and putting the buckets on the floor with a relieved sigh. His shoulders and his back hurt terribly from the heavy weight, and he needed some rest before he would be able to carry them to the upper floor where he was supposed to clean the guest rooms and the stinking privy._

_Morris had left the taproom to go to the kitchen and threaten his cook, always thinking that the roast would be ready much faster if he did. It never worked, and his cook Elisa was the only one not fearing his wrath, because she was the best cook in Oxford and knew that quite well. Morris depended much more on her than she depended on him, and Morris had resigned himself to the fate of not being able to punish his cook the way he would have liked to. Sometimes, Elisa smuggled some of the leftovers into the boy's mouth, because he and his sister weren't allowed to get any of them when Morris was around._

_The boy glanced around to search for his older sister, the only one who was left from their family. Yvonne wasn't there, though, probably having to help Elisa in the kitchen and cleaning the dirty plates and mugs. He bit back a groan as he moved his arms to shake them out, and his gaze wandered to the table where the noblemen were sitting. They might be ten or twelve, the boy couldn't tell that for sure from his place partly hidden behind the large counter, and they were dressed like he had always imagined knights to be dressed, their velvet tunics and trousers colored in shining blue, green or red being the visible proof of their wealth and noble origin. They all wore their swords attached to the right side of their adorned leather belts with obvious pride, stroking the shining hilt from time to time almost lovingly, and their chin-long hair surrounded their handsome features neatly and obviously freshly washed. Four of them wore beards with the same pride as they felt because of their weapons, while the others tried to draw level with them, only that their beards were still rather thin. Only one of them was clean-shaven, towering his companions even while sitting._

_The boy took a closer look at the unknown young knight who might be around twenty, his aristocratic and handsome male features drawing the boy in, immediately. His hair was of a rich brown in the color of chestnuts, and his eyes seemed to be brown, as well, judging by what the boy could see in the rather gloomy light of the barroom. Morris was pretty stingy, and he kept his window shutters closed and had enlightened only six small torches attached to the walls, always saying that his clients would find their mouths even in the darkness without any problems._

_The young knight seemed to feel his curious glances, because he suddenly turned his head to look the child watching him in awe straight in his eyes, and when the boy's eyes widened in surprise, he smiled at him. It was only a brief smile before the nobleman looked back at his neighbor telling him a story with wide gestures, but the young boy felt a strange tingling in his belly by the beauty of this unexpected sign of friendliness he wasn't used to, at all; and he couldn't avert his eyes from the unknown aristocrat, who had been the first one showing him any kindness within months except for Elisa._

_The knight's movements were of natural grace, and he radiated self-confidence and authority like only true noblemen could do. Morris' attempt to appear as commanding and formidable were simply ridiculous compared to this knight, and he would never have the same aura of self-confidence and nobleness._

_“Hey, brat! What are you standing there, gawking like this? I will make you get a move on!”_

_Morris suddenly stood beside him, lifting his hand up to smack him across his face. The boy instinctively ducked away and grabbed his buckets, heading towards the stairs as fast as he could. He could feel the glances of the young nobleman on his back, but he didn't look back, only griped the handles of the buckets tighter, climbing the stairs and staring at them with dry and blind eyes._

 

***

 

_The boy had always loved it when his mother had sung to him, and he remembered her songs when he crawled over the floor with his sponge to make it shine, sometimes only humming the sweet and sad melodies, sometimes singing the wistful words with his own boyish soprano. His beloved mother had had a small harp, and she had taught him how to play it at a very young age, but this harp had gone like his father had done and then, his oldest sister and his mother, as well. All that's left was the boy himself and his other sister Yvonne. Even the lumps they had to wear belonged to Morris like their bodies did, and the boy knew that it would stay that way for the rest of their miserable lives, because even if Morris died one day – which seemed to be unlikely to the small boy - there would come another cruel man oppressing and abusing them, and neither he himself, nor his sister would ever be free again._

_The boy normally avoided such thoughts, focusing on his task of cleaning the rooms and the privy before Morris' guests would come to crawl into their beds, while he would have to clean the barroom before he could even think of getting some sleep himself. Today, he couldn't help but think of what he had lost, though, and the words of the songs his mother had taught him escaped from his lips without him really hearing them._

_“You have a wonderful voice, boy.”_

_The child flinched, violently, spilling some water as he spun around and gazed up at the speaker, the fear that he would get punished because of his singing visible in his amber-golden eyes._

_The young nobleman who had smiled at him instinctively stepped back. “Hush, everything's fine, child. I didn't mean to startle you. I was searching for the privy and couldn't help but listen to you for a while. Your songs are truly sad, but your voice is the most beautiful voice I've ever listened to. Would you please sing another song for me?”_

_The boy gaped at his admirer, hardly able to believe his ears. “I'm sorry, my lord. I didn't mean to disturb you with my singing.” He lowered his head down, expecting to be smacked for his impudence. It simply couldn't be that the knight had meant what he had said, could it? Morris had played his evil game with him many times, telling him that he liked his voice just to beat the shit out of him afterwards when he had actually dared to sing to him._

_The young man knelt down beside him, and the boy flinched away before lowering his head even more. “I'm sorry, my lord.”_

_A gentle hand under his chin lifted his head up, and when the child uncertainly gazed up at him, he found his suspicion to be true, because the knight's eyes were of a wonderful, warm brown color. His face was even more handsome than it had been from the distance, and the boy's heart started to race when he saw the kindness in them._

_“Don't call me 'my lord', my name is Richard, boy. And you didn't bother me, child. I truly enjoyed your singing. Will you please sing one more song to me? Maybe the lullaby again you've sung when I came upstairs? What's your name, by the way?”_

_Richard. What a wonderful name, suiting the knight so well, who had become his silent hero because of his friendliness that easily. Yet, the boy couldn't tell him his name, because his name belonged to another life, a life when his parents had still lived and when he had been so much happier than he would ever be again._

_Morris always called him 'brat', 'bugger' or 'little piece of shit', and he had forbidden his sister to call him by his name, as well. Yvonne had called him by his name a few times at the beginning, not willing to obey in this matter, but stopped it again when Morris had found out about it by his other servants betraying them and he had punished both of them, their bruises lasting for more than two weeks after his beating._

_“I don't have a name, Richard,” he whispered, his heart aching because of the lie. Richard considered him, and the boy was sure that he saw through him, but he only nodded his head. “I see.”_

_The young boy expected him to stand up again, annoyed because of his disobedience, but Richard stayed where he was, kneeling beside him on the wet floor without caring about his boots and his trousers and so, he started to sing the lullaby for him. Richard listened, quietly, his features melancholy and wistful, but his eyes kept the gentle expression until the boy had sung the last tune._

_“Thank you, boy,” Richard said, the hand that had held his chin with such a tender gesture coming up to briefly stroke his filthy hair._

_The young boy smiled shyly at him, uttermost gratitude making his eyes shine, but this precious moment of the faintest memory how happiness felt like didn't last long enough to be more than just that: a brief and quickly passing memory of a hurting and desperate child._

_The moment was over as soon as Morris stormed upstairs, pulling roughly at his arm. The boy was forced onto his feet, balancing on his toes as Morris twisted his arm until tears of pain welled up in his eyes. His back and shoulders hurt from all the scrubbing and carrying heavy weights, but Morris only hurt him more when he cried out in pain._

_“How dare you bothering my guests with your horrible singing, you little piece of shit! I will teach you a lesson you'll never forget!” he yelled, bowing servilely before the young knight. “My sincerest apologies, your highness, this bugger will never badger you again!”_

_Your highness._

_The boy gazed at the friendly knight in horror, because he hadn't known that this kind and beautiful young man was actually Richard Plantagenet, not only a nobleman by birth, but even a prince._

_“You won't punish him, innkeeper!” Richard didn't need to raise his voice to make his words an order only few men would try to disobey. “I asked him to sing for me, and he has done nothing wrong. Let go of him!”_

_Morris bowed again, lowering his head like a hen picking for crumbs. “As you wish, your highness, as you wish.” He shoved the poor boy down to the ground, hitting him with his boot as he did so. “Make sure that the rooms will be clean by the time my guests will need them!”_

_“Of course, sir,” the child mumbled, starting to scrub the wooden floor with his sponge again._

_Both men stared down at him for a couple of minutes before the prince turned his attention on the fat innkeeper again. “You will treat him well in the future, no beating, understood?” he demanded, and Morris bowed for a third time._

_“Of course, your highness, of course. I treat all of my charges well, sire.”_

_“I hope so!” With these words, Richard went downstairs again, and the boy strained his eyes to catch one last glance at his savior from his crouching position, a young prince who had listened to the song of a nameless child with rapt devotion._

 

***

 

_“You bugger, you brat, how could you do that!” Morris yelled when the last guest had left his tavern or disappeared upstairs, pulling at the boy's hair and shoving him to the ground. The child curled into a small ball and tried to protect his head with his arms from the merciless kicks and hits but the fat man kicked them away, easily, the next kick against his temple making the poor child seeing stars before his eyes. Morris behaved as if he had gone insane, shouting and screaming while he beat him and kicked him, and the boy felt one of his ribs break under the heavy boot._

'This time, he will kill me. This time, he will beat me to death!' _he thought, not sure whether he should be scared by this thought or welcome the prospect of his death ending the endless torture he had to endure twenty-four hours every single day._

_“How could you dare embarrassing me in front of the prince, you impudent and ungrateful little brat! You're meaningless trash, you unworthy little rat!”_

_Blood streamed over the boy's face from the nasty wound on his temple, and his arms and back were covered with black bruises, more blood trickling out of the cuts and slits Morris' boots had ripped into his pale skin. The far too thin body trembled and winced under the smacks and kicks hailing down on him, and he was about to black out from the horrible pain when the beating suddenly stopped and another voice yelled:_

_“What is the meaning of this, man? How dare you beating this child after I've told you to treat him well?” The words were almost a roar, all friendliness and warmth gone from the prince's voice._

_The boy tried to look up, but he couldn't see anything because of his tears and all the blood, and he blinked, a small whimper fleeing his cut and swollen lips as he did so._

_His savior had come back._

_Richard Plantagenet had actually come back to save him from Morris' wrath for a second time, standing with spread legs and his hands on his hips before the fat man writhing on the floor. He stood there like some kind of angel who had come straight from heaven above to rescue him, framed by two of his companions, while another one stood between the boy and Morris with his sword in his hand, it's tip pointing at the innkeeper. Richard's wonderful brown eyes were glowing in a dangerous light, even the boy could see that, and his owner howled in fear and pain, his 'braveness' he had shown when he had beaten a small child vanished instantly by the sight of sparkling steel hovering over his throat._

_“Make sure that this trash here will never beat innocent children and young maids again!” Richard now spat out, jerking his head at Morris, and the one with the sword hauled the whining and shivering man up to his feet and pushed him towards the door. The nobleman at the prince's right side followed him, while Richard now knelt down right where the boy's blood had formed a small puddle on the floor._

_Richard gently stroked his bloody and filthy hair out of his bruised face, and the boy flinched because every touch burned like fire on his skin. “Peace, child, I won't hurt you. But, I can't leave you here, and you need a doctor who will see to your wounds. I will take you with me to my place, and I promise you that no one will ever hurt you again.”_

_The boy tried to say something, to tell him that he couldn't leave his sister, but the mere attempt let another wave of horrible pain shoot through his body, and everything went black before the first word left his mouth._

 

***

 

_The horrible pain had faded to a sharp ache throbbing in every cell of his body when he woke up again, and the boy tried to remember from where this ache came. His mind was blank, and it took him several minutes before the first pictures of the last evening flushed before his mind's eye. He groaned when the memory of heavy boots kicking him again and again let a wave of nausea wash over him, and he turned his head to the side to spit out the bitter bile rising in his throat. He groaned again as his stomach clenched, vomiting more bile._

_“Hush, everything's fine,” a gentle voice said, and he was grateful for the bucket someone held for him. His stomach had been empty before the beating, but the dry heaves continued until he fell back into darkness once more, the last thing he heard the warm voice of his savior murmuring soothing words._

_The next waking up was bearable, the sharp ache still there but dull now, and the nausea had luckily faded. The young boy felt horribly thirsty, his mouth dry as if someone had rubbed sand into it. “Water!” he tried to croak out, but only a small whimper made it through his swollen and split lips._

_“Here, let me wet your lips, child.” A warm hand pressed a wet cloth against his lips, and the boy managed to open them just a tiny little bit, the cool drops of water moistening his dry mouth tasting more delicious than anything the boy had ever tasted._

_The cloth was taken away too soon, though, and he whimpered with disappointment. “Hush, boy, there will be more water, soon.” His savior sounded so gentle again, the roaring reserved for creatures like Morris, only._

_Morris. The tavern. His sister._

_The boy tried to talk, but the warm, calloused finger placed upon his lips kept him from doing so. “Hush, don't fret, you're safe here.” The finger was replaced with a mug, and the boy let the water fill his mouth and revive his spirits. His savior pulled the mug away several times to give him the time he needed to swallow, and after a while, the boy was even capable of opening his eyes. It hurt, but he really needed to see the prince's face once more, and if it was the last thing he saw in his life._

_“Your highness!” he croaked out, raw and hoarse, but at least, he could form coherent words again. Richard Plantagenet smiled. “I told you to call me Richard, didn't I?”_

_The boy tried to smile back. It most likely looked more like a grimace, but Richard's smile deepened when he saw it. “Yes you did. But, you are a prince, I can't call you by your name, your highness.”_

_“Of course, you can, boy.” Richard stroked his hair. “Is Morris your father?”_

_He shook his head. “No, he isn't. How long was I unconscious?” he asked, the thought of his sister giving him the strength to talk._

_“Three days. You're still not out of the woods, this creature almost killed you. But, he has gotten what he deserves, he will never hurt anyone again!” Richard growled, and the boy flinched away from his rage. The prince's expression became regretful. “I'm not angry with you, boy. You don't have to fear that I could ever beat you. Go back to sleep, your body needs to heal.”_

_“My sister, Yvonne, please, she is still in the tavern...” he pleaded, and Richard's hand stroked his bruised cheek with greatest tenderness._

_“I will go there myself and see to her being brought to my mother. She will take care of your sister, I promise you.” The boy couldn't keep his eyes open any longer, and he slipped back into the velvet blackness of another unconsciousness, laying his well-being in the hands of the young prince who had saved him twice from a horrible fate._

 

***

 

_The next days passed by in an endless array of short moments of wakefulness, unconsciousness and sleep, Richard Plantagenet always sitting by his side when he woke up, seeing to his wounds and feeding him with water, broth and porridge. The boy didn't feel very hungry because of his weakness, but he ate what Richard offered him without any protest and after two more days, he could take the spoon and eat himself._

_The prince had assured him that his sister was fine, and the young boy could see the questions in his eyes, but Richard didn't ask any of them until he was well enough to sit up in his bed for a while. At first, the boy had been too sick to pay attention to his surroundings, but when he could stay awake for longer, he had become curious, and the luxury of the room had made him gulp for air._

_Richard sitting on a chair beside his bed again, had chuckled. “I brought you to my own room. It is clear that you don't trust people you don't know, and this surely for good reasons, and I didn't want to scare you by seeing strangers when you wake up. Only the doctor and my personal servant are allowed to enter these rooms. Walter will help you to bathe when you're feeling well enough. You can trust him, he would never do you any harm. I trust him with my life.”_

_The prince had kept his promise, and the boy endured the doctor's examination without uttering any sound of pain. Walter was a tall and heavily built man in his late fifties, but his eyes were as kind as Richard's, and he helped the boy when he had to see to his bodily needs and washed him with uttermost care._

_Walter hardly ever spoke, but the boy appreciated his silence, and when he was able to stand on his feet again, Walter helped him into the tub with warm and fragrant water, carefully washing the dirt and the blood out of his hair until they were shining in their true color again._

_The boy couldn't remember the last time he had bathed, it had probably been when his mother had still been alive, and silent tears were streaming over his face because of the small luxury of being clean again._

_When Walter had dressed him with fresh clothes, a linen shirt and trousers with a sleeveless tunic made of soft wool and colored in a dark green, he carried him back into Richard's bedroom where the prince was already waiting for him. Walter gently lowered him down onto the mattress and bowed before his prince before leaving the room without making any sound._

_Richard turned his head and smiled at the boy. “Are you feeling better now, boy?”_

_“Yes, your highness.” The boy nodded his head._

_Richard sighed and came to the bed to sit down on the chair once more. “Richard!”_

_The boy only shook his head and gazed at him, waiting for his savior to start his interrogation. Richard sighed again. “Fair enough. Well boy, you said that Morris isn't your father. How come that he kept you and your sister like some kind of personal slaves?”_

_The boy swallowed, taking a deep breath. “My father was a stonemason, his name was Thomas. My mother, my two sisters and I had a good life until my father died by an accident. He fell from the roof of the church they were building and after that, my mother had to see to raising us alone. She worked so hard as a washerwoman, my older sister helping her to earn our living. Morris pretended that he wanted to help her, but when my mother told him that she wouldn't marry him, he spread out bad lies about her, and no one wanted to have anything to do with us from there on. She became sick after having spent all day at the river to wash sheets of the rich citizens of Oxford. My older sister tended to her, but my mother had lost her will to live and died after two weeks, and we couldn't afford the needed medicine that might have cured her. My older sister had become infected while she sat on her bed day and night, and after two more weeks, she was dead, as well, only Yvonne and me left of our family.”_

_The boy's voice was still hoarse from his own sickness, but it didn't waver, and his eyes were dry when he told his story._

_The young prince listened to him, quietly, and he didn't try to hide his tears of sorrow from the young boy. “I see. How old have you been when that happened?”_

_“I was seven when my father died, and nine when my mother and my sister died. I'm twelve now, my birthday is in May, the last day of it.”_

_“I see,” Richard repeated, regarding the boy with attentive eyes. “And Morris took advantage of your sister and you being orphans and forced both of you to serve him?”_

_The boy nodded his head. “Yes, he did. He beat me every single day, and he did the same to my sister whenever she tried to be friendly to me. At first, he didn't touch her except for the beating, but about one year ago, he ordered her into his room at night...” His voice trailed off, and Richard balled his fists. This time, the boy didn't flinch, sensing that the prince's wrath wasn't aimed at him._

_“He will never touch anyone again, boy, I've seen to that,” Richard stated grimly, and the boy nodded again. “Yes, your highness.” He hesitated for one moment before continuing with his narration._

_“My mother had a wonderful voice, and she loved to sing for us. My father always asked her to sing for us after dinner, and she played the harp and sang her songs for us. She taught me how to sing and to play the harp when I was a little boy, and her songs are the only things I've left from her. Morris took her harp and damaged it, and he always beat me when he caught me singing. No real man would sing like a woman, he has always said.”_

_“This is nonsense. Your songs have made me happy, boy, and I will see to you getting a harp again. You will stay with me and no one will ever touch you against your will and beat you, I promise you. Your sister Yvonne is safe with my mother, she has become one of her maids, and if she ever wants to marry a good man, she will be able to do that and get a dowry from my mother. She will visit you when you're better again and you can visit her whenever you want to, I promise you,” Richard Plantagenet said, and the boy bowed his head to kiss his hand without thinking._

_Richard drew his hand back. “Don't do that. I want to be your friend, and friends don't have to bow before each other.” He pursed his lips. “Will you tell me your name now and prove to me that you want us to be friends, as well? You know my name, and I don't want to call you 'boy' all of the time.”_

_The boy gazed at him, biting his lips and unsure what to do. But, when Richard's eyes became dark with disappointment, he drew in a shaky breath and said:_

_“Marcus. My name is Marcus.”_

 

***

 

_Richard cocked his head to the side. “Marcus, a beautiful name. The name of a warrior, actually.”_

_Marcus shook his head, vigorously. “I'm not a warrior. I'm not brave enough, and I will never be a knight like you are, your highness. The only thing I can do is sing and play the harp, and no real warrior would ever do that. Maybe, this would be different if my parents still lived, but it isn't, and it can never be undone again. Morris has forbidden Yvonne to call me by my name, and for him, I was only 'the brat'.”_

_The prince regarded him thoughtfully for a while. “You are one of the bravest people I've ever met, Marcus, don't you ever doubt that. You have been a child when you've lost your family and Morris started to abuse you, you are still a child, and no child should have to endure what you went through. You survived all of this, and your eyes tell me that you're still unbroken. If this is not the mindset of a warrior, then nothing is. But, I understand that it is painful for you to be called by your name. It reminds you of happier days and your beloved ones who died, and I don't want to do that to you. What would you think of me giving you another name? Will you allow me to give you a name, my friend? A name suitable for your new life as my friend by my side?”_

_The boy, who didn't want to be called by his birth name Marcus because of the painful memories any longer, nodded his head, beaming at his new friend, the only true friend he had ever had in his life. “I would love that, your highness!” he cried out, and Richard chuckled. “I will do that, but only if you call me Richard!”_

_The boy swallowed. “Please, I want you to give me a new name, my prince Richard!” he begged, and Richard Plantagenet, the young, twenty-one year old son of King Heinrich II, reached out to tenderly stroke his young friend's shining blond hair._

_“Blondel. I will call you Blondel because of your shining blond hair and your amber-golden eyes, my friend. From this day on, you will be my most valued friend Blondel and everyone will call you by your new name and know that you are my dear friend and untouchable.”_

 

***

 

Blondel went silent, his voice husky from his long speech. He blinked to clear his vision, the memories he had evoked still so vivid before his mind's eye and blurring the sight of Erik sitting beside him and watching him with sympathetic eyes. When his gaze finally sharpened, he could see immediately that the young squire believed every word he had said.

Erik didn't say anything for a while, and Blondel waited, patiently, grateful that the younger one gave him the time he needed to pull himself together again.

“He gave you not only a new name, but also a new life, then,” he finally started, and Blondel nodded.

“Yes, he did. My king Richard saved me not only once or twice, but thrice. He saved me from Morris beating me to death, and he saved me and my sister from being abused for the rest of our lives. He saved me from drowning in my misery and self-pity, and he gave me a reason to live again. When I had recovered fully, he gave me a new harp and encouraged me to sing for him and his siblings and friends, something I had thought that I could never do again after that night. He even taught me how to defend myself, personally, and even though I never became the warrior my first name should have made me before he left to fight in the Holy Land, but I became it after learning about his imprisonment. The sword might never be the weapon I will be able to wield properly, but there are other things one can use as weapons, sharper and much more dangerous than the sharpest sword could ever be. Now, you know why I had to come here, why I couldn't stay away from my king Richard. He was there when I needed him, and I will always be there whenever he'll need me. Now, you also know why I don't want you to be a prisoner because of me, and why I would never try to trap you myself. The man I owe more than only my poor life loves you, deeply, and I would never do you any harm. I only wanted to make the days you have to spend without him a little more bearable for you.”

Erik nodded, and his face softened. “Yes, Blondel, I believe you. I can see in your eyes that you have spoken the truth. Plus, our king Richard is right, you are a warrior in your heart and mind, and you're surely one of the bravest men I've ever known except for the king himself.”

Blondel bowed his head before him. “You honor me with your words, Erik of Thanstein. Will you know trust me enough and come with me?”

Erik smiled at him, a honest and friendly smile, but to Blondel's surprise, he shook his head. “No, Blondel, I won't come with you. It's not that I don't trust you enough, because I do, but your story has taught me one important lesson: namely that I would be a poor coward and not trustworthy myself if I left the castle. My lord might have taken me as his hostage for the false reasons, but I won't betray him and my king by disrespecting his orders. I will stay here and endure my temporary captivity like a man and without complaining about it any longer, because I want to be able to look both in their eyes with pride and honesty after their return again. I will stay here and see to my duties, praying for their safe return.”

Blondel looked at him, and he realized with astonishment that Erik wasn't the young boy he had been before Richard's departure anymore. Erik of Thanstein was a man by now, grown up within one week, and his features were the determined features of the brave and loyal knight he would soon become. The blond minstrel felt touched that he was allowed to witness this change, and when Erik smiled at him, he smiled back, suppressing the love he felt for this brave young man only with effort. Maybe, he only loved him because he loved Richard that deeply, this was hard to tell, but his love was true, nevertheless.

Erik's next words pulled him out of his rapturous staring. “Will you do something else for me, Blondel?” The young squire gazed expectantly at him, and Blondel swallowed. “Of course, Erik of Thanstein. I will gladly do everything for you that is within my power to do.”

“Then please come with me and sing for me and my sister. Lisa is not feeling well because of the heat and her pregnancy, and you singing and playing the harp for us would surely help her.”

Blondel bowed again. It was something he did only rare times and if absolutely needed, because this posture always reminded him painfully of the endless hours he had spent on his knees with his back bent over his task, but before his king Richard and his young knave, he would gladly bow at any time.

“Of course, Erik of Thanstein. It will be my greatest pleasure to sing for you and Lady Lisa.” He stood up, and together, they made their way downwards, two young men who weren't friends at this point, but who could become friends as time went by, united in their love for their admired king, Richard II. Plantagenet, called the Lionheart because this king surely had the courage, the nobleness and the heart of a lion.

 

_This is Castle Liebeneck near the hometown of my husband in the Black Forest. It has nothing to do with this story again, but the tower without any windows or visible exits looks very much like a stony guard or prison to me, and this chapter tells about captivity and dungeons, not necessarily made of stone and barrs, but still. I found this picture the most fitting one for this chapter._

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dear readers, I poured all of my heart into this chapter, so if you liked it, please leave something to me, any kind of feedback would make me extremely happy. <33
> 
> My youngest one celebrates her fifth birthday tomorrow, it is special day for me because of her handicap. I will try to write the next chapter asap, but I'm not sure if I can post something tomorrow.


	17. June 1193: In Worms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard, Robert and Marian struggle with the happenings of this fateful day and the court council while Blondel struggles with his memories...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Arrested, the updates will slow down next week again, because I won't have much time to write then except for my lunch breaks, so I'm eager to write and post as much this week as possible. This chapter is shorter again, 'only' 4.800 words, and it includes 4 POVs, Richard's, Robert's, Marian's and Blondel's. I really wanted my boys to behave and only sleep in the same bed, but Marian and Robert had other plans, so this chapter has some smut in it again. As always, I hope you will like it. This chapter also explains Richard's and Blondel's complicated relationship a little bit further and why Richard was blind when it came to the true nature of Blondel's feelings for him. ;-)
> 
> My dear readers, some of you might be surprised about Richard, Erik and Blondel struggling with their feelings, loving more than only one, but something like this happens oftentimes in real life, and even though this story is purely fiction and only a romantic novel, (hopefully), but I want my charcters to behave and feel like real people do, and this struggling and love entagnlements belong to that, as well.
> 
> The same goes for Marian and Robert and their talk in this chapter. In the Middle Ages, aristocrats simply had to marry, whether they wanted to or not, and Marian and Robert know that and have accepted that. A marriage won't mean the end of their love, and of course, cheating is a serious topic, but I try to write this story in a way that it is believable and truly reflecting those times as best as possible, therefore, I can't ignore the marriage-issue and let all of my boys live in an exclusive same-gender relationship.
> 
> As always, I would be extremely interested in your opinion, so please leave something for me and share your thoughts with me. :-)

Richard lay down on his cold and lonely bed with a suppressed huff, stretching his aching limbs as he tried to find a comfortable position. He felt the long years of traveling and fighting heavy in his bones, after all, he wasn't a young man anymore, at least not as young as he had been before he had left his own country to serve the Holy Church as a devoted crusader.

A bad headache was stubbornly throbbing behind his temples for hours by now, refusing to fade, and the dim light of the two candles hurt in his eyes even though his lids were closed. Richard had decided to let them burn because his bedroom had no windows, and the English sovereign hated the thought of lying alone and helpless in his sleep in inky-black darkness. The two thin, flickering flames of the candles threw dancing shadows against the wall, the changing between black, dark-gray and gold at the wall opposite his bed like a strange and somewhat cheerful ballet noticeable through his closed eyes. Richard inhaled deeply the slight fragrance of the beeswax, and it brought back the memory of a happy and sunny summer day he had spent on a wide, bloomy meadow together with Blondel. The sun had bathed everything in her warm, golden light, the birds had chirped and twittered cheerful melodies, and the diligent bees had flown from flower to flower to collect nectar for their sweet and delicious honey Blondel loved so much to eat, its color shimmering as golden as the boy's hair and his eyes.

They had played together, enjoying a delicious meal while sitting on a blanket in the middle of the meadow, and Blondel had beamed at Richard when he had taken the new, wonderful harp with rapturous and slightly trembling fingers. Richard had wanted him to have a harp that looked exactly like the one his mother had once had and he had searched for a rather long time for a harp maker who would build it the way he wanted it to. His young friend had played his new harp and sung for him on this meadow, and Richard still hoarded the memory of this day like a precious treasure.

Blondel had become thirteen shortly before this day, and Richard had wanted to celebrate this special day and erase the memories of the sad anniversaries his younger friend had had for years after his father had died. They had been apart for a couple of weeks, Richard having to see to his duties as a prince while Blondel had stayed with Richard's mother, Queen Eleonore, and his sister Yvonne to keep them company.

Richard still remembered the wide, happy smile Blondel had gifted him with when he had had come back from his trip and entered the private rooms of his mother, the boy running in his direction to throw himself into his arms but stopping a few inches before him to gaze uncertainly at his prince instead.

The king opened his hurting eyes to stare at the ceiling where more shadows were dancing around, realizing that this had been the moment their relationship had changed, the innocent childhood-friendship and love the thirteen years old boy had felt for him until then changing into something deeper and less innocent. Maybe, it had been because of their rather long separation after Blondel staying with him for almost one year, spending his days in close range to the older prince. Maybe, it had simply been inevitable, Richard couldn't tell that for sure. All he knew was that he had opened his arms for the boy he considered as some kind of younger brother he had to protect ever since he had saved him, and Blondel had stepped closer to hug him for one short moment before drawing back again. Blondel had looked so mature all of a sudden, and his voice had become deeper, as well, still warm and so beautiful, but not the clear soprano it had been one year ago any longer.

The boy had grown during his absence, and he had put on weight and muscles due to the proper meals he could eat now every day, still slim and lithe, but not as thin as he had been when they had met.  
Richard still mused about the reason why he had gone back to the tavern in this fateful night now and then, and he still hadn't found out what it had been in the end. The bad feeling he had had all of a sudden after leaving the boy alone with his tormentor? His younger brother John who had forgotten to take his cap with him and had wanted to look for it? Richard couldn't tell for sure. All he knew for sure was that he had felt the overwhelming urge to turn around and go back, taking the boy with him and making sure that the ugly innkeeper would never hurt him again.

Richard had almost come too late.

The English monarch would never forget the sight of the twelve year old boy lying on the floor of the taproom in his blood, more dead than alive, and Morris' hateful grimace as he kicked and smacked the small bundle with his heavy boots and his huge fists again and again, screaming and shouting like someone who had gone insane.

Geoffrey, one of his friends, had shoved the fat creature away from the boy when Richard had stood there like frozen in place because of his horror, and his brother had helped him carrying the unconscious boy to their horses and bringing him to Richard's house in Oxford.

The house his mother would have to sell to raise the huge amount of ransom money that would grant him his freedom.

Richard blinked as he found his face wet from the silent tears he must have cried, much to his astonishment. He didn't know why he was thinking of Blondel instead of his sweet young knave lying here in his bed in Worms far away from both of them, but the confession of his best friend had obviously put him off more than he had thought. Blondel had been so young, and Richard had never dared to see anything other in him than some kind of younger sibling or cousin. For Blondel, he had been the knight in shining armor but over the years, his juvenile crush and adoration must have turned into something deeper and more passionate without Richard wanting to see it.

The king wasn't sure how he actually felt about his friend, if he returned Blondel's feelings, then he had buried this not brotherly kind of love that deep in his heart that it had never really come to the surface. All he really knew was that he loved his sweet young knave, Erik of Thanstein, the brave and faithful young nobleman who had shown him the beauty of true, unquestioning love for the first time in his life.

Richard longed to be together with him again, to taste his sweet lips and share passionate kisses with him, to hold him and inhale his wonderful scent, to let Erik's warmth and love seep through his skin and comfort him. But, his sweet young knave wasn't there, and the king tossed and turned for a rather long time in his cold and lonely bed until the slumber of total exhaustion finally claimed him; the silent noises coming from the antechamber where Marian and his lord were whispering and probably making up,passionately, accompanying in his wistful dreams.

 

***

 

Robert was still sitting where he had sat when the king of England had left him, telling him strictly to stay seated instead of stumbling to his feet just because he had stood up. He could hear the silent murmur of the English sovereign and his wonderful Marian talking to each other, and another wave of nausea coursing through him by the mere thought of losing his beloved one almost made him vomit again right where he sat.

The dark-haired earl swallowed back the bitter bile that had risen in his sore throat with effort and lifted the wooden mug at his lips with trembling fingers to ease the pain and get rid of the bad taste. Marian deserved to know about the emperor's plans, but Robert had no clue how he should tell him the bad news without losing him right away.

Marian had been so angry with him because of his gambit, and Robert really couldn't blame him for that. He was still angry with himself because of what the political circumstances had forced him to do, and they had just made up with each other again. His sweet Sunny wouldn't take it well if he learned about his lover's imminent marriage with a bride of royal blood, the Earl of Lindelborn was sure about that.

Footsteps announcing Marian coming into the living room made him flinch and spill some of the water in his mug. Robert searched for a cloth to wipe it away, but his squire was faster, stepping beside him and wiping it away with his sleeve.

“You will ruin your shirt,” Robert mumbled, avoiding Marian's questioning gaze. He was deeply ashamed that he had lost his self-control that much, and the knowledge of Marian having listened to his retching made two red spots of shame and embarrassment form on his otherwise pale cheeks.

“It is only water, my lord. It will dry without stains.” Marian stayed where he was, standing beside his chair and glancing down at him. Robert readied himself for his accusations or questions, but the young man he loved so much surprised him as he only stroked tenderly through his hair.

“You need to rest, Robert. Let us go to bed. You will feel better after lying down and perhaps, my hand warming your belly will make the nausea fade a little bit.”

The young earl hesitated but eventually raised his head after one more second to meet Marian's beautiful eyes. The love he found in them took his breath away. “I'm sorry,” he whispered, and Marian stroked his hair once more. “There is nothing you needed to be sorry for, my lord. Please, let me serve you and help you putting yourself to bed.”

“You're not my servant!” Robert objected. “I mean, I don't want you to be my squire or servant tonight, Sunny.”

Marian's face was calm and the older man asked himself where and when the boy he had once known not so long ago had grown up to the amazing and self-confident man now looking at him without him really noticing it.

“I am not, and I don't feel like a servant, Robert, at all. I am the one who loves you with all his heart, and helping the man I love when he's sick and hurting will never be something I will consider as the duties of a simple servant. You have taken care of me oftentimes enough when I needed a shoulder to lean on, so let me do this for you, as well, please. You've once told me that we are equals in our love, Robert. But how can we be equals if you're always trying to be the stronger one of the two of us? I don't know what's troubling you so much and I won't ask you, trusting you that you will tell me when you're ready for that. But, you can hardly stand on your own two feet at the moment, feeling sick and exhausted, so please let me take care of you, Robert. You will never lose my love and my respect because of you letting me be your tower of strength once in a while.”

This pulled the first small but honest smile on this day from the dark-haired earl. “I'm behaving stupid, ain't I?”

Marian chuckled, gently pulling him up to his feet. “Yes, you are, my lord. But, I wouldn't want you to behave in any other way. You're a proud man, a tough warrior, and admitting that you need someone to help you now and then is one of the hardest lessons for you to learn, that's for sure. But, I'm a patient and insistent teacher, and you will learn to trust me enough to let me take care of you in the end, that's a given.”

Robert followed him into the small antechamber, using Marian's arm as a support for his unsteady walk. “I guess that I'll have no say in this matter, right?”

“Yes, you have not. Sit down and let me take off your boots,” Marian commanded, unmoved, and Robert obeyed, slumping down on the small cot and lifting his right leg. His squire pulled at his boot and it came off with a dull 'plopp'. The left one followed shortly after, and when Marian started to undress him with deft fingers, Robert closed his eyes and enjoyed the tender ministration, his exhausted body slowly relaxing, inch by inch.

 

***

 

It was a bit crowded and uncomfortable on the small cot, but Marian wouldn't have wanted it in any other way. His beloved lord lay safely wrapped in his arms, his limbs heavy with tiredness against Marian's frame, and his head pillowed on Marian's chest. They had shared only a few chaste kisses, Marian had sensed how uncertain the older man still felt after his vomiting, and the young squire hadn't tried to deepen the kiss and make Robert tense up with that again.

“I wished our emperor was at least a little bit like Richard the Lionheart.”

His lord's silently whispered words almost startled Marian. He had closed his eyes to drift off to sleep, but after this confession, he suddenly felt wide awake again. He craned his head to press a gentle kiss on Robert's temple. “You shouldn't say such things, my lord. As his majesty has put it that pointedly: even the thickest walls have ears here in Worms.”

“It is the truth.” Robert didn't seem to care about the walls having ears, and Marian felt new concern tightening his chest. “That might be, but it is nothing you should merely think of, let alone speak out loud, nonetheless.”

“He wants me to marry.”

For one moment, Marian heard the words but couldn't detect them. He blinked, trying to catch a glance at Robert's face buried in on his shoulder. He wasn't sure what Robert was referring to, nor whether or not this was what had troubled him the entire day.

“The emperor Heinrich wants to marry you?” he stammered, feeling utterly silly and stupid. “But, he is already married to a wife, isn't he?”

Robert chuckled, weakly. “Yes, he has a wife, his empress Konstanze. And of course not, silly.” He lifted his head from Marian's chest to peer at him from underneath his eyelashes. “It is not the emperor I shall marry, how should that even work? We're both men!”

“Yes, I've noticed, Robert. It is hardly to overlook. That's why I'm so surprised. You've said that the emperor wants to marry you!”

Robert sighed, bedding his head on Marian's shoulder once more. “No, I've said that the emperor wants me to marry. That is different from what you've said. I shall marry someone else – a wife, of course.”

Marian started to stroke his hair, because Robert had become stiff as a poker again. “Hm, how dense of me, now, I can see the difference, as well. Is that what has troubled you so much?” His voice was calm and as tender as his fingers carding through the thick, dark waves were.

Robert hesitated, silence stretching between them.

“You're not sounding angry or surprised,” he eventually stated, but there was a question in his words.

Marian suppressed the urge to shrug his shoulders, because he didn't want his desperate lover to become dizzy because of his motion. “That's probably because I am neither the first, nor the second. We have both always known that this day would come, haven't we? You are the Earl of Lindelborn, one of the emperor's most loyal man, at least here in this part of his empire, of course he expects you to take a wife and have a heir.”

He paused, biting his lip. “My father expects me to marry a suitable young lady one day, too.” This time, his voice had lost its calm, sounding reluctant and resigned.

Robert raised his head to kiss his cheek. “Yes, but I didn't expect this day to come so soon. Not to mention that I had hoped that I could choose my bride myself.”

This distracted the young squire from his own discomfort by the thought of having to marry. “You sound as if this choice had been taken away from you.”

“His imperial majesty wants me to marry Richard's niece, the daughter of his sister Mathilde and Heinrich the Lion, the Duke of Braunschweig. Her name is Richenza.”

Marian slowly and carefully turned a little bit to the side to look at his lord. He cupped his cold and still pale cheek with his hand, caressing the slightly stubbly skin with his thumb. “The daughter of Duke Heinrich? King Richard's niece? His imperial highness must value you more than I thought,” he mused, smiling at him. “Maybe, you will like her. She could be a overwhelming beauty taking your breath away right at first sight.”

Robert's blue eyes glowed in the dark antechamber. “Something like this will never happen, my cheeky knave, and you know that quite well. The only one taking my breath away is you, and this will stay that way as long as I breathe!” The earl's voice had lost its weakness, his exhaustion replaced by the heat of passion and desire. Marian could feel his hardening manhood pressing against his thigh, and his body reacted forcefully to the sensation, his own cock growing to full length and hardness within the blink of an eye.

“Is that so?” Was that really his own voice sounding that hoarse and needy? It had been so long since they had last been together, and the hot wave of longing and desire surging through his groin made his painfully hard member leak silky drops out of the sensitive slit.

“Oh yes, it is! We have to be quiet!” Robert's ardent murmur luckily sounded as needy as he himself felt, and the earl put his words into action by silencing Marian with a passionate kiss, instantly. He had apparently lost his reservation against kissing him with teeth and tongue after his sickness, and Marian didn't care about that, either.

Robert tasted wonderfully after their long and forced separation, even more wonderful than he remembered, and Marian welcomed his tongue in his mouth, letting it caress the inner sides of the soft cavern and happily battling with him for dominance. They couldn't make love to each other the way both craved for, not in this small cot and not with the English sovereign sleeping only three meters away from them, hidden only by a wooden door, but they could pleasure one another with their hands, and Marian's hand started to travel down south to its own will, slipping under the waistband of Robert's linen underpants. The pulsing evidence of the earl's strong arousal felt heavy and slippery in his hands, jerking eagerly when the brunet touched it for the first time. Robert shivered in his arms, and he snaked his own hand between their bodies to return the favor and do his best to turn his cheeky knave into a panting mess. Marian pulled roughly at his hair to deepen the kiss and the earl obeyed, his soft moan tickling at their connected lips.

Marian knew that he wouldn't last long, but that was fine with him, his own long suppressed desire for his lord demanding release, forcefully. Robert's calloused fingers stroked up and down on his aching shaft in the same rhythm as Marian stroked his cock, both of them using the milky drops of pleasure to slick their dicks up and make it easier form them. Robert's impressive length twitched in his hand, announcing that the dark-haired warrior wouldn't stay behind but reach his peak together with him. Marian couldn't hold back the husky moan that wanted to flee his throat when the first wave of his orgasm rushed through his groin and everything inside his abdomen clenched with pure lust. He moaned again, spurting his ecstasy into the warm hand caressing him that skilfully. The sensation of hot wetness coating his fingers in fast jets pulled Robert's climax from him, and he followed his beloved squire over the edge, shooting his release all over Marian's fingers.

They clung to each other as they shuddered through their shared release, kissing and stroking, and when it was over, Marian relaxed gratefully, pulling his lord close. For a while they simply lay there, listening to heir calming breaths.

Marian finally wiped both of the clean with one corner of their blanket before kissed his forehead.

“I love you, Robert. I will always love you. No wife could ever take my love away from you, neither yours, nor mine. But, I want you to be happy, and if Richard's niece can make you happy, then I won't complain. I will surely be jealous like hell, but my wish to see you happy will always be the only thing truly mattering to me.”

Robert lifted his head from his shoulder for the felt umpteenth time in this night. Marian liked the feeling of Robert using him as a pillow, normally, it was the other way around. “I love you, too, Sunny. More than life itself. I don't want to marry, but your words and your love will make it easier for me to obey our emperor's order and marry the wife he's chosen for me. Plus, the same goes for me. I will be horribly jealous of every lady having the luck to become your wife, but as long as she will make you happy, I will be happy for you, too.”

Marian smiled, his love for Robert of Lindelborn forming a lump in his throat. “We will worry about that when the day comes. Now, go to sleep and let me be the one watching your and our king's sleep. Tomorrow, when you'll feel better again, you can be my shoulder to lean on once more. Tonight, it will be my task to take care of both of you being safe, so close your eyes and let me do that.”

Robert chuckled, kissing his nose before snuggling close to him and relaxing with an almost happy sigh. “Your wish is my command, my beloved Sunny,” he murmured and only one minute later, the earl's even breaths proved that he had finally found his peace of mind again.

 

***

  
_On Castle Trifels:_

 

Blondel had left Erik and his sister when Lady Lisa had become tired and Erik decided to ask Jakub, one of his lord's men, for another lesson with the sword. Blondel had watched Jakub and his fellow Roman during the past couple days, sensing that they were the ones with the sharpest eyes and ears. Erik had told him that Jakub had been the one informing him about his current state as a guarantee for the king's well-behavior, but Blondel doubted that the older warrior would decline Erik's wish to train with him.

After all, Erik was still Robert's second squire and not a real enemy, and they wouldn't be alone in the court yard and train with wooden swords, only. Blondel had watched Jakub and Roman fighting the previous day, and no matter how skilled Erik might be, but he surely wouldn't be able to defeat Jakub, who was truly an extraordinary fighter.

The blond minstrel was in a strange mood, telling the story of his childhood and how he had become Richard Plantagenet's friend had affected him more than he would have thought. His growing love for Richard's young knave was another matter that aroused feelings in him he wasn't allowed to feel, and Blondel instinctively directed his steps towards the stables in the faint hope that Nuri would be there himself and maybe even willing to distract him from his wistful and sad thoughts. He missed his king Richard so much, missed his smile and his voice, his mere presence. It had been hard when Richard had left him behind a couple of years ago, insisting of him needing to know that his dear friend was safe while he was fighting in the name of the church.

Blondel had resigned himself to his fate, even though having to watch his king's unworthy younger brother trying to take over his throne and his country had been worse than enduring the hardships of the war could have been for him. But being torn away from Richard now, right after finally having found his beloved king again, was much worse than their goodbye back then, four years ago had been.

“You again! I should have known it. Your favorite pastime is to badger people, isn't it?” Nuri's words startled Blondel, and he flinched, coming to an abrupt halt. The cruel inkeeper's words still echoed in his ears after his narration, and hearing the handsome equerry using exactly the same words made his heart clench, painfully.

Suddenly, he was the small, twelve years old boy again, and Blondel turned around without thinking to run away and search for a place where he could hide until the vivid memories would pass.

“Blondel!”

Nuri's call stopped him once more. The equerry with the thick, dark waves similar to Robert's had refused to call him by his name except for one single time so far, and his voice sounded apologetic and much friendlier than ever before.

Blondel craned his neck to peer over his shoulder. The other man stood in the entrance to his refuge with slightly spread legs and his arms folded before his chest. He wore only a sleeveless brown tunic over his trousers, and his well-defined and broadly built arms were truly a nice sight. Nuri tilted his head to the side, watching him, attentively and questioningly.

“What? I was only doing what you wanted me to do: freeing you from my annoying presence.” Blondel felt still hurt about Nuri's snapping, the permanent mistrust Erik, Nuri and Robert's men treating him with slowly taken its toll.

The equerry blushed, licking over his lips. Blondel felt the tiny spark of desire burning in his groin, the dark-haired might not be the love of his life, but he was truly desirable and fascinating.

“I'm sorry, Blondel. I shouldn't have said that. You look as if you really needed some comfort, and my horses seem to be the best to comfort you at the moment. Please, come in. Summerwind and Thunder will be pleased to see you.”

The blond minstrel could see how much it had cost Nuri to apologize, and he stepped closer with a shy smile. “Will you let me help you with Thunder's front hoof? I could use some human comfort, as well,” he admitted, adding a hasty “a human ear listening to my stupid worries about my king's well-being,” when Nuri's blush increased and the expression in his eyes sharpened again.

Nuri relaxed and for the first time, he met Blondel's gaze with one of his own rare and so beautiful smiles he normally reserved for his horses, only. “Of course, minstrel, as long as you will keep your hands to yourself, you can borrow my ears, they will listen to your whining, more or less patiently.” His going back to call him 'minstrel' was only a poor attempt to prolong the inevitable, and judging by his crimson-red blush when Blondel's eyes slowly traveled over his figure, the equerry knew that himself quite well.

Blondel chuckled. “You don't want me to keep my hands to myself, equerry, you're panting for my hands touching you,” he challenged him, pulling a growl from the other man.

“Don't be so sure about that, minstrel! You're not as irresistible as you obviously think that you are!” he groused, lifting his head up in defiance and turning around on his heels to march back to Thunder's box without waiting for the blond following him a little bit slower.

Blondel laughed, shaking his head with amusement and anticipation. Oh yes, the mysterious ruler over the emperor's stables was exactly the right person to distract him from his memories and his worries, and Blondel wouldn't rest until Nuri would admit that and come into his arms, no matter how difficult reaching this goal would be.

 

_Castle Frankenstein in the north part of the Pfälzer Wald. Richard, Robert and Marian could easily have passed it or even stayed there for one night. :-)_

  



	18. July 1193: On The Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard and his entourage are on their way back to Castle Trifels, accompanied by guards Heinrich has ordered to protect them...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Arrested, this is a rather short chapter regarding the others of this story, but its content will hopefully make up for it. ;-) I did my very best to describe the scenes in a way that one can imagine them, and they will hopefully also be believable and good to read. Our boys are on their way back, (yes, Richard might be an impressive king, but he belongs to my 'boys', nevertheless), and the plot is moving on, as well. Have fun reading this chapter, I do hope you will like it.
> 
> Any similarities in names and appearances to former trainers of the FCB Bayern München are totally coincidental, cough, cough, whistle, whistle...

Richard and his entourage had had to stay in Worms for two more days after the court council. The king had needed to talk to England's emissary Hubert Walter and give him the necessary information about the conditions of his release; and after that long talk and Richard writing the petition for the Holy Father and a letter for Heinrich the Lion and his niece, it had been too late to start their departure on that day.

Apart from that, the Earl of Lindelborn had still felt slightly sick, and Richard needed him well and strong enough on their way back. He was sure that Blondel's men would try to rescue him on their trip back to Castle Trifels, and it wouldn't be helpful if his head-guard wasn't in the state to defend his royal charge and himself properly, then.

The next day, an array of early summer thunderstorms had delayed their departure again, and Richard had found himself pacing up and down in his quarters like a nervous lion trapped in his cage the entire day, too impatient to leave Worms to be capable of focusing on anything else.

Marian and Robert had used the delay to renew their deep bond and trust by talking for hours and playing games, inviting Richard to join them, but Richard had given up after losing three games in a row. It wasn't that he was a bad loser, it was only pointless because he couldn't concentrate on what he was doing, his longing for his young knave too strong and distracting him too much. He had tried to sleep, but that hadn't worked, either, and Richard had felt tired and exhausted when they had finally left Worms three days after the court council.

Heinrich VI. had left Worms one day before them, not caring about the bad weather because he needed to see to other parts of his empires, and he had ordered his earl to take the main route along the river Rhine and had seen to twelve more guards accompanying them on their way without listening to Robert's concerns that it would be much more dangerous this way.

The English sovereign wasn't so sure whether the new soldiers should really protect them from possible attacks or more watch the young earl and his doing, because Richard suspected that the emperor had noticed his knight's sympathy for the royal hostage and didn't want to risk anything.

Perhaps, Heinrich felt even jealous that one of his most loyal man so far had developed such a strong liking for the 'enemy' he had to watch, this was hard to tell. If he feared that Robert could betray him, then he either didn't know his knight as good as he actually should know him, or he had made some very bad experiences with someone else he had trusted too much against better judgment.

Whatever it was that had made Heinrich doing that, their rather large impedimenta attracted a lot of unwanted attention on their way back to the green hills of the beautiful region where Castle Trifels sat enthroned on one of these mountains, just like the Earl of Lindelborn had feared they would. The former dusty sand of the roads now muddy and slippery because of the heavy downpour of the thunderstorms were passable only in a very slow and careful pace, and they had to take detours oftentimes enough which slowed down their trip even more. Not to mention the four pack horses overloaded with Richard's belongings and supplies the new head of his guards obviously regarded as necessary on their journey...

Heinrich's twelve men were commanded by an Italian with the name Pepe, Comte Gardiola, and the pretty arrogant and overbearing man with the bald head and the beard had taken over the command from the earl by showing him a written order Heinrich had signed and sealed as soon as he had entered the great hall where the king and his entourage had had a hasty breakfast before they would leave Worms early in the morning.

Robert of Lindelborn had stared at it impassively before curtly nodding his head, and only Marian and Richard himself had seen through his mask. The earl hadn't tried to argue, but his thin lips and the defiant glowing in his eyes had told every attentive observer what the dark-haired knight thought about this order and the man suddenly and unexpectedly outranking him.

The Italian had rearranged the order of their caravan and replaced Lars and Sven who had ridden beside Richard on their way to Worms with four of his own men, all of them wearing the emperor's colors and heavy armors and helmets. Robert hadn't wanted to appear as important noblemen two weeks ago, and Richard had wholeheartedly agreed with him, all of them wearing unobtrusive and ordinary clothes and behaving like normal travelers, playing the role of some unimportant aristocrats or citizens wanting to visit friends and families in another city. It had worked quite well, and Richard had actually enjoyed being a simple man for a while.

Now, on their way back, he was forced to ride in the middle of the caravan and in rather splendid clothes, because Comte Gardiola was eager to display his own importance by being the new head-guard of Heinrich's so important, royal hostage. He had asked the Italian count to leave some of their supplies and his belongings behind to accelerate their traveling, but the man he been too proud and stubborn to listen to him and do that.

_'He could have painted a target on my forehead',_ Richard thought with ironic and grim amusement, because even the densest person would recognize him as the king of England this way, instantly. Gardiola had even wanted to tie his hands, but Robert hadn't allowed him to humiliate him this way, his hard gaze piercing him finally keeping the Italian from doing so.

Robert, Marian and his own soldiers had been ordered to ride at the end of their impedimenta, separated from Richard by Gardiola's men. Gardiola rode in front of their procession with Richard and his four guards following him, then came the other eight soldiers and after them, Robert and his fighters.

The count always chose expensive inns for their nightly stops, telling each individual within earshot who he was and whom he accompanied back to Castle Trifels, no matter whether the unfortunate listeners were interested or not. The stable boys of the inns, the barmaids in the taprooms he flirted with, the innkeepers themselves and each other client or employee was informed about his important task immediately, and Robert's face became darker and darker with every hour that passed.

Richard shared the earl's worries, and on their fourth stop for the night, hours before the sun would actually go down under the horizon, he managed to step beside Robert after dismounting his hoarse and handing White Arrow's reins to Lars leading the stallion to the stables. He really needed to talk to the man he had come to not only respect, but like and care about, as well, and the young earl looked expectantly at him, apparently glad to be able to talk to him, as well.

“If we're lucky, we will reach Castle Trifels tomorrow, Robert. Let us hope that Sir Walter won't let him take his own post as the castellan away from him, because I don't think that my prolonged stay on the castle will be bearable, then. The count surely considers the castle's 'nice' dungeons as the more appropriate quarters for me,” he stated, meaning his words only partly as a joke.

Robert pulled a face as if he was still suffering from his sickness. “Yes, he certainly does. I've never met such an arrogant and conceited man before, and I've met quite a few. But, Sir Walter won't let him take his post, and the emperor's order doesn't include him getting the command over the Trifels, either. As far as I know, he wants him to return to him because of the preparations for his campaign against Sicily.”

“That's good to know. Let us hope then that we will reach the Trifels as soon as only possible.” Richard felt utter relief by the thought of not having to endure the count's mere presence for much longer.

The young earl eyed him from the side. “No to mention the other reason you have to look forward to getting back there.” He smiled briefly when Richard gave him a stern look but, became serious again rather quickly. “It looks as if the weather will change again, and I am deeply worried, sire. I have a bad feeling, and Gardiola has made sure that every single person living within a range of at least twenty miles knows who and where we are.”

Richard nodded, briefly laying his hand on Robert's shoulder. “Yes, I know, Robert. I have the same feeling.” He looked his former and hopefully soon-to-be-again head guard straight in his eyes. “I gave you my word that I won't try to escape. I don't make such promises lightheartedly.”

Robert looked back with the same sincerity. “Yes, I know, Richard the Lionheart. I don't think that you will break the word you gave me. But, I can hardly protect you with the count keeping me from doing so the entire time, and I am worried about your well-being and your safety.”

Richard felt touched, because he could see in the blue eyes that the young earl worried more about his life than his own. “I can protect myself, Robert, even without my sword. Just make sure that you and your men will be fine and then, everything will be alright, you have my word on that, too.”

 

***

 

Robert had been right with his suspicion about another thunderstorm, after all, he knew this region much better than Richard and the Italian. They had left the Rhine plain the previous day and were a couple of miles away from the small village Eußerthal and its large monastery when it started to rain, the sky suddenly becoming almost black and opening its countless floodgates all at once.

The English sovereign had heard the silent rolling of the nearing thunderstorm for some time, and so had Robert, of course, but Gardiola hadn't wanted to listen to the other aristocrat he considered as his rival, and he had declined his advice to seek shelter. He had insisted of the clouds taking the opposite direction and when he had realized his mistake, it had already been too late. It didn't take long until they were soaked wet, the horses slipping dangerously on the muddy ground as they tried to keep their balance, especially the poor pack horses.

The path they were riding on was small and winded itself through the thick forest without any chance for them to stop and seek shelter from the heavy rain that made it impossible to see wider than a few inches. The water falling from the sky was like a wall they couldn't overcome, washing away the soil from underneath the stomping hooves of their mounts and turning the once sandy street into a rapid creek.

The thunder roared, and the lightnings flashing again and again enlightened the dark-gray sky and the green forest with their gaudy yellow that hurt in the rider's eyes. The Earl of Lindelborn had refused to let his men wear any metal armor, and it turned out to be a life-saving decision, because one of the lightnings struck one of Gardiola's soldiers wearing his iron hauberk and riding right in front of them. The man howled in pain and fear before becoming silent, abruptly, his broken eyes staring up into the dark sky as his dead body fell from his neighing horse down to the ground. The leather saddle and the thick horse rug underneath must have protected his mount from the worst, though, because it stumbled and neighed in pain, but stayed on his legs, his heavy body strong enough to withstand the lightning.

The unexpected death of one of their fellows let chaos break out under Gardiola's men, the other soldiers pulling desperately at the reins of their beasts to seek shelter under the trees. Richard found himself unguarded all of a sudden, but before he could even react, something else happened and then, rain wasn't the only thing pouring down on them.

A loud cry echoed in the air as another Italian soldier was hit by an arrow right in his neck, blood spurting out of the nasty wound and coloring the man and his rising horse. More cries followed, and Richard bent down on White Arrow's neck as his stallion stood on his hind legs, ready to burst out into a fast run at any time.

“Hush, shhh!” the English sovereign tried to calm his Arab, and the stallion lowered himself down on all hooves again, his flanks trembling. More arrows flew through the air with sizzling sounds, drowned out only the rolling thunder, but the unknown shooter must be true masters of their bloody handcraft, because none of the deadly projectiles flew in his direction. Of course not, whoever the men his minstrel and friend had hired were, they knew that he was the one they had come to rescue and were careful enough to not injure or kill him by accident.

Which didn't go for the Earl of Lindelborn and his men, because the unknown attackers most likely wouldn't care about the king having begun to care about them during the long months of his captivity. For them, only fulfilling their task would count, no matter whether it would cost some good men their lives or not. Richard suspected that they had followed them for a rather long time, apparently familiar with this region and knowing how to stay unnoticed from sharp eyes. Not that the count's eyes had been very sharp, he hadn't really payed attention to his surroundings for the last two hours.

The king looked around to check the path and the forest, and to his utter horror, he found Robert wounded, as well. An arrow had drilled itself into his sword-arm, blood seeping out of the wound and streaming over the sleeve of his shirt. The earl yet held his sword in his hand, jumping from his horse and hitting it on his backside. The mare neighed and galloped away, right into the thick forest.

Marian, Lars, Sven and the four other warriors followed his example, pulling their swords, as well, because now, about twenty or even more grimly looking strangers dressed in the green and brown colors of the forest appeared on the slippery path in almost spooky silence, all of them carrying sharp weapons in their hands.

They had come to rescue him, and all of them looked as if they were more than capable of wielding a stick, an ax or a sword.

 

***

 

For one short moment, Richard the Lionheart was tempted to break his word and let himself be rescued. His own people needed him, badly, and the ransom he had to pay would ruin England and engulf each and every single one of his subjects in misery. This was his chance to avoid that, and the English monarch swallowed hard, his fingers clenching around the reins.

It was only for the split of a second because then, Erik's innocent face appeared before his mind's eye, his beautiful hazel-green eyes begging him to not do that and instead, the experienced warrior rose to the surface, making Richard jump from his stallion to come to Robert of Lindelborn's help.

He was surrounded by fighting and shouting men, the opponents of his own entourage using their weapons with great skills. Gardiola hadn't allowed him to wear a weapon himself, even not a knife or a dagger and Richard pulled the sword of the Italian who had been struck by the lightning out of its sheathe without thinking.

The thunderstorm at least had moved on, the lightnings not endangering them to be struck any longer, but it was still raining, heavily, and the muddy underground was not really convenient for fights. Richard almost slipped several times, his boots and trousers covered in mud and dirt. He didn't really care about that, though, because two of their adversaries were attacking the dark-haired earl and his young squire Marian.

Marian did his best to defend both of them because of his lord's injury, but it was clear that he would lose this fight in the end and so, the king jumped forward, hitting one of the attackers with his sword. He hesitated to kill him because of his friend Blondel, but he managed a blow against the man's right arm that made him lose his ax and injured his shoulder. The man cried out and lost his balance, but the next attacker replaced him, and Richard's attention was drawn to his next adversary.

Robert did his best to not let the strange fighters come too close to him, holding his sword with his uninjured left hand now. His movements were slow, but his face was grim, and Richard knew that he wouldn't give up until either him or his enemies were dead. The dark-haired earl was a true knight in every sense of the word, and Richard felt greatest respect for him.

The king didn't know how long it went on when Gardiola suddenly came into sight again.

Richard had caught only a few quick glances in the count's direction when the fight had started, the Italian embattled by at least four attackers while his men had been paralyzed by the happenings, hardly able to defend themselves. After that, the English sovereign hadn't had the opportunity to look at him again, too busied with fighting himself, his only wish to help Robert, Marian and his brave men who had sworn to protect him with their lives.

Richard didn't want to be responsible for their deaths, and he had been relieved when he had seen that Lars, Sven and their four companions could defend themselves rather easily. Maybe, Blondel had told the men he had hired to not kill Richard's entourage but to only make them hors de combat, but Robert were losing too much blood to let Richard think about that more closely at the moment. The earl still held his sword, and he was almost as skilled with his left hand as he was with his right one, but the blood-loss was taken its toll, and the dark-haired knight slipped on the muddy ground because of his dizziness. Richard covered his back against another attack, watching the count whirling closer from the corner of one eye.

The Italian wielded his sword over his head with loud screams, his eyes glowing in a fanatic light, and he spun around his axis with fast movements, felling two of their enemies as he did so. His soldiers were still fighting, but they were handicapped by their heavy armors, reacting much slower than their opponents who seemed to change their positions faster than one could follow them with their eyes. It was clear that Richard's unknown rescuer spent a lot of time in the forests, maybe even lived there, and they didn't slip on the mud and lost their balance like the Italians did.

But, Gardiola didn't care about his men needing him and crying for his orders, he kept his eyes on the English monarch's and the earl's faces, his own features frozen to a terrifying looking grimace of hate and fury.

He didn't stop when he was within arm's reach to Richard who was still defending the Earl of Lindelborn and Marian against three others, and it took the king one fateful second to realize what the Italian wanted to do.

Pepe, Comte Gardiola hadn't come to save him, he had come to kill him.

 

_The tower of Castle Erfenstein, the rival castle on the mountain opposite Castle Spangenberg:_

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, oh, cliffhanger... *tip-toes hastily out of the room*


	19. July 1193: The Oath Of A Lindelborn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard and his entourage have been attacked in the middle of nowhere while a thunderstorm is raging over their heads, and the Italian count Heinrich had ordered to accompany them obviously wants to kill the English sovereign...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Arrested, I will answer to your comments tomorrow, I was out for dinner after work, but I wanted to post the new chapter for you before going to bed. 
> 
> It is short like in really short.  
> It has a really bad cliffhanger, like in really bad. 
> 
> I'm sorry for both, but it wouldn't have felt right to add another part to Robert's fight. This is his chapter, and I do hope that he can make up with you... ;-)  
> I will try to hurry with the next chapter, I really promise you. Erik is already complaining that he hasn't gotten his chapter time, lately, as well. As you will see, soon, I couldn't resist to include another legend in this story, you have three guesses which legend it is ;-D
> 
> Enjoy the new chapter, I hope that it hasn't become too gory and disgusting.

Everything happened so fast, faster than any human being could really comprehend what was going on.

The thunderstorm turning their surroundings into a wet, loud and dangerous hell from one minute to the other, killing one of the Italian's men in an explosion of gaudy yellow-white light and a deafening roar that seemed to be sent down right from heaven like a judgment from above. It was the most forceful reminder imaginable for every creature living on this world that they should stay humble and devout, respecting the signs of nature instead of arrogantly believing that one of His imperfect children could ignore those signs just as it pleased them.

The young earl stared down at the man's body and tried to understand what had just happened, when another imminent danger made itself noticeable right after this unexpected and horrible accident.

Robert had had the feeling of being watched by invisible eyes for a rather long time, and he had remembered the rumors he had heard about a group of outlaws and other poor individuals living in the thick forests of his home. Only few people seemed to have seen these people, and judging by their fearful descriptions, the creatures considering the northern part of the Pfälzer forests as their home were either dwarfs or giants, capable of melting with the landscape and appearing right before one's nose without making any sound, their faces only green and brown grimaces.

Sir Walter, the castellan of Castle Trifels, had tried to find out more about them, but none of the inhabitants of the small villages housed in the valleys between the green mountains had been able to give him further information. Robert thought it more likely that they hadn't been willing to do that, probably sympathizing with these outlaws or fearing their wrath too much to do that. Only the monks and priests of the monastery of Eußerthal had told the castellan the little they knew themselves about them, and their stories had been based on the few rumors they had heard and hadn't been very useful.

The leader of this group seemed to be a tall man towering all those who had met him, but his age and his origin stayed a mystery. Only the name these people had given themselves was known, and it didn't add more information to what Robert already knew about them: the Forest People. Regarding that they obviously preferred to live in the forests, this name was only logical.

They didn't loot the villages within their reach, though, at least not as far as Robert knew it, and only the same two or three men appeared in one of the small settlements to trade furs and other things against the supplies they couldn't get otherwise now and then. The emperor had been too busied with other, more demanding political matters to make an attempt of trapping them so far, and it was unlikely that he would start with such a task any time soon in the future. Robert suspected that Heinrich VI. might even appreciate their presence in his forests, because the rather fanciful stories about them kept other rabble away from the forests and the settlements in between, and traveling through the wilderness of this region was a surprisingly safe matter.

Robert had thought of them on their way to Worms, but he hadn't heard about the Forest People attacking and robbing peaceful travelers so far, either, and he had also been convinced that the attempt to free the English ruler would be delayed until his return to Castle Trifels, when the emperor would be far away enough to not get the message of his hostage's escape right the very next day.

The young earl had suspected that Blondel might have hired the ominous Forest People after what Jakub and Lukasz had told him, but he hadn't been really sure, because the Forest People usually avoided strangers, and it was hardly possible for someone without familiar bonds and a good knowledge of the forests to find them, let alone talk to them.

Richard's blond minstrel had apparently been the exception from this rule, that much was clear when the first arrow flew through the air, drilling itself into the throat of another Italian soldier who fell down on the muddy earth with a gargling cry.

Before Robert could react, another arrow followed the first one, and the sharp pain shooting through his right shoulder proved to him that the shooters knew quite well what they were doing, proving their skills with bow and arrow right with the first two shots. He had been lucky that he had turned in the direction of the crying man right in this moment, and that a sudden gust of wind and the rain gaining strength again had influenced the course of the arrow a little bit because otherwise, he would be dead by now, as well, lying on the ground with an arrow in his throat like the poor Italian soldier.

He stayed in the saddle of his mare only with effort when the frightened horse rose on her hind legs with a shrill neigh, the pouring rain turning the ground into ankle-deep mud being as dangerous as the arrows flying in their direction. He could feel his blood trickling out of the deep wound in his right upper arm, coloring his doublet red, but he knew that he had to stay focused if he wanted to get the king of England out of this mouse trap.

He didn't need to worry about the Forest People trying to shoot Richard the Lionheart, but Marian and his men were in acute danger, and the earl glided from his hoarse, ignoring the pain in his arm. He hit the mare on her flank, and his mount neighed and stormed forward and into the woods. Marian, Lars and Sven followed his example, pulling their swords, while Gardiola's soldiers were only looking around, wildly, pulling at the reins and making their horses slip on the muddy ground with that.

The Italian count yelled some orders when about twenty grimly looking men jumped down from the trees where they had sat and waited for their impedimenta, and his men finally reacted to his shouting and dismounted their beasts to defend themselves against the attackers with their weapons.

Robert knew that none of them would really care about the king's safety, only about their own, opposite to him and his own companions, but the Forest People now attacking him and Marian left him no other choice than to grab his sword with his left hand and parry their attacks as best as he could. His beloved Sunny stood beside him with his own sword in his hand, not wasting his breath with useless questions about his injury but trying to fight for two men instead.

Robert wouldn't have heard him, properly, anyway, the still roaring thunder, the screams of Gardiola and his soldiers and the rain pattering down on them drowning out every other sound. The metallic noises of swords clattering against each other added to this horrible music, and Robert had to blink against the wave of dizziness and nausea shooting through him. The arrow still stuck in his arm, and he knew that he couldn't risk removing it if he didn't want to lose more blood than he already did, but the sharp tip sent stings of burning fire through his shoulder with every move he made. Water was streaming over his face from the downpour, stinging in his eyes and blurring his vision, but he would fight as long as he was still conscious, and nothing would keep him from protecting the king and his beloved Marian, neither the bad weather, nor his injury.

Robert, Earl of Lindelborn, had sworn an oath, and no Earl of Lindelborn had ever broken the oaths they had sworn so far. His father had sworn to his mother that he would come back to her, and he had kept his promise, and Robert would keep his own promise, as well.

The Earl of Lindelborn gasped out and grit his teeth, bending to the side to avoid the wielding ax of one of the Forest People. He could see from the corner of his eye that Richard the Lionheart had taken the sword of the Italian soldier who had died because of the lightning, and for one moment, he thought that the English monarch would break the promise _he_ had given him and use this attack to escape, but Marian's cry beside him proved to him that he didn't need to worry about that.

“The king! He's coming to help us!” The young man fighting at his right side jumped to the side to avoid the blow of the huge club one of the Forest People swung to knock him out, proving to his lord that he had become a tough and skilled warrior over the past months. He managed to injure his attacker by cutting his wrist, but the man with the thick black beard didn't give up that easily, swinging his club again. Marian pushed Robert out of the way, because the earl's reaction time and movements were slowed down by his dizziness and weakness because of his injury, and Robert blinked and struggled to stay on his feet.

The dark-haired knight blinked again, stumbling over the mud as he tried to fight and keep his balance at the same time, only his long-time experience and his strong will helping him with both. Three men were attacking Marian and him now, their opponents seemed to become more and more with every minute, but this was probably just because the Forest People moved so fast.

Robert could only hope that Lars and Sven wouldn't get harmed or killed, but he had trained them personally for years, and they were good fighters and hadn't been wounded by an arrow like he himself. The next second, the English ruler eventually stood beside him after what had felt like an eternity after Marian's cry, wielding his sword with great skills, and Robert used the surprise of one of their attackers to hit the ax out of his hand.

The man growled and glided to the side to not get killed by Robert's sword, when the Italian count suddenly came into sight. He screamed with bared teeth, the fanatic fire of hate burning in his eyes. He was definitely one of the best sword-fighters the earl had ever seen, but the hate and fury on his face which didn't resemble anything human any longer told Robert that Gardiola didn't want to help them.

No, Pepe, Comte Gardiola was about to kill king Richard Plantagenet, called the Lionheart.

 

***

 

Time seemed to stop for one long moment that was most likely only the blink of an eye, before moving forward again, but the seconds ticking by again somehow stretched to minutes and then, to hours, at least in Robert's changed perception.

Robert, Earl of Lindelborn watched Gardiola coming closer, spinning around his axis as he did so, his right fist covered with a leather glove clenched around the hilt of his sword. He swirled his weapon over his head just to let it hail down on his attackers, and the short, black coat he wore over his hauberk blew around his shoulders like the dark wings of a giant, dangerous bird, a raven that had come to kill the lion.

The Forest People were too surprised about this whirling dervish raging right in the middle between them, and Marian beside Robert slipped on the muddy ground and fell down to his knees as he jumped to protect the English sovereign from the attack of the man who was actually supposed to protect him with his own life and grant his safe return to Castle Trifels.

Robert watched Richard lifting his own sword in this strange far too slow pace, but when a tall man dressed in green and brown appeared by his side out of the blue or better out of the dark-gray, the king was distracted for the split of a second and he hesitated, obviously not wanting to hurt or even kill the unknown man who had been hired to rescue him from his imprisonment.

Gardiola took advantage of the king's short moment of hesitation and grabbed his blade with two hands to lift it over his head for the deadly blow just when the next storm broke out over their heads, two lightnings bathing the scenery in their eyes-hurting light and the following thunder's roar echoing in the air like the trombones of Jericho.

Robert's ears were ringing loudly and the noises of the screaming fighters, the clattering weapons, the neighing and stomping horses and the pouring rain intermingled with this ringing to a horrible, screeching noise, but his vision was sharp and clear, and before the dark-haired knight realized what he was doing, he threw himself before the king he had sworn to protect with his own life, just when Gardiola had reached him and lowered his sword to kill Richard Plantagenet.

The tip of Robert's own sharp sword cut through the small iron rings of the Italian's hauberk and the leather doublet underneath, meeting only little resistance because of the desperate force Robert had laid into his attack, and when it broke the skin and ripped through the count's muscles and his flesh, it did so with a squishing sound.

Robert watched his sword sheathing itself into Gardiola's abdomen, wondering briefly that he actually hadn't come too late to save his king and that he had managed to keep his oath despite his wound but then, the unbearable pain of a weapon cutting through his already injured right shoulder as if his own flesh was just a slice of bread took over, erasing every other coherent thought.

Robert saw the muddy ground coming closer before everything went black and he didn't feel or see anything anymore.

 

_I found this photo as the most fitting for this chapter, because Robert and his men are in stuck deep in the Pfälzer Forest_

  



	20. July 1193: After The Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robert has saved Richard from Gardiola's attack, will he survive his feat? And what will the Forest People do? Will they try to free the king at all cost?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Arrested, here is the promised new chapter, longer again and without a bad cliffhanger. To make up for the last one, I put two pictures in this one, they show the beauty of my wonderful home country in all its glory, I think. The views are what our ancestors living in the castles built on top of the Pfälzer mountains have seen when they have looked around, and I am stunned each time I do so again, I don't think that it will never not take my breath away, no matter how many mountains I will climb. It's so worth the sweat, the effort and the aching muscles afterwards. :-)
> 
> This chapter starts with Erik and Blondel, who were complaining loudly about being neglected, but you will learn more about Robert's injury, as well. I also couldn't resist to let someone of my Trifels-series appear I have missed, badly, this time, he is very much alive and not a ghost, at all, but still his very self.  
> The leader of the Forest People is another footballer again, a world champion and having just won the silver medal in Rio, and he is also a close friend of Erik in real life. :-) He is very tall, you can google his looks under Matthias Ginter, but you don't have to know him as a footballer for this story. :-)
> 
> Enjoy the new chapter, I will start with the next one tonight. :-)

_The rock where the imperial castle Guttenberg is built upon. Its ruins lie in the very south of the Pfälzer Wald, and this photo shows perfectly the landscape you'll see while hiking through this beautiful region: trees, rocks, plants. It is a place where you can find peace and let your thoughts wander around, and the small lizards, beetles and other creatures passing your way will surely put a smile on your face. :-)_

  


“I need to talk to you, Blondel!”

The blond minstrel looked up from his task with a frown when Erik almost stormed along the corridor between the boxes, making Thunder shy away from him with a startled snort. The blond bard had spent a lot of time in the company of the beautiful animals and their caretaker Nuri over the past days, hoping that tending to these loyal and honest companions and teasingly arguing with the handsome equerry would distract him from his deepening worries about his king's long absence and his own plans to let him be freed by the Forest People. Blondel had tried to not think of what would happen to his king's young knave Erik and his sister Lisa if his plot would work out, and he had found himself torn between his wish to see Richard free and on his way back to England again, and his strong desire to see his king reunited with the man he loved and Erik and Lisa safe and free again.

Richard the Lionheart should have returned to Castle Trifels at least two days ago, if everything had gone the way the Earl of Lindelborn had planned it, that is, and Blondel should have gotten a note from the Forest People at least two days ago if everything had gone the way he had planned it.

Neither of these two options had happened so far, and Blondel felt restless and incapable of focusing on anything else. Grooming Thunder, the earl's vivid and willful stallion was the only task that actually made him pull himself together as best as he could to not increase the Arab's nervousness. The beautiful animal seemed to sense that something had happened to his beloved owner, because Thunder kept pacing up and down in his box without any chance to calm him down and give his hoof the rest it would need to completely heal, and his wistful neighs almost broke Blondel's heart. He had offered to stay with the black stallion because Nuri had hardly dared to leave the upset Arab alone because of his fear that he would injure himself again, and the equerry had accepted his offer without arguing and with a honest smile filled with gratitude and utter relief before heading to his other rather neglected duties.

Erik running in their direction undid all of his efforts to calm Thunder down he had made during the last two hours within one second. The Arab neighed and rose on his hind legs, and only Blondel's fast reaction saved him from being hit by his right front hoof.

“Erik! Will you please not scare him like that! Hush, Thunder, it's fine, it's only Erik, you already know him, don't you?” Blondel said, keeping his voice calm quiet, even though he felt more like hissing at the young man with the from his fast run rosy cheeks.

Erik stopped before the halfway opened door to the box with a blush, inhaling and exhaling several times to get his breathing back under control. He slowly and carefully reached out with his hand to let Thunder take in his scent. “I'm sorry, my pretty boy, I didn't mean to give you a fright. You're still remembering who I am, aren't you? I haven't visited you for a couple of days, I know that, and I promise you to change that again. You don't deserve to be ignored, I'm sure you're as worried about my lord's and his companions' well-being as I am.”

Thunder had lowered himself down on all fourth again, and he now craned his neck to inhale Erik's scent. Blondel had seen tough and experienced rider looking scared at this special horse, but Erik didn't show any sign of fear, even though he wasn't such an experienced rider like his lord or Richard Plantagenet were. The young squire had told him that he had learned how to ride a horse properly only after joining Robert's household on that afternoon, when Blondel had sung for him and his sister, and the bard was impressed by his fearless demeanor. Erik of Thanstein had grown up within a few days, and his behavior had changed, completely.

“You wanted to talk to me, Erik?” he finally said, when Thunder accepted Erik in his box with a soft snort, pushing with his nose against the young man's chest for comfort. “Yes, you're my pretty boy, Thunder,” Erik purred, gently stroking over his nostrils. “What do you think of me grooming you for a while so Blondel can rest his arms?” he suggested, and the Arab moved his head up and down with another snort just as if he wanted to nod.

Blondel folded his arms before his chest and leaned against the wall next to the door as Erik took the brush with a chuckle, starting to groom the shining fur with firm but gentle, long strokes. “He truly likes you.” The minstrel didn't know why he was so surprised about this because falling for the beautiful young man was a rather easy thing to do, and why should horses feel differently about that?

Erik didn't look at him, concentrating on Thunder's long mane to carefully unknot it with his brush without causing the stallion unnecessary pain, but Blondel could see a small smile curling on his lips. “Of course, he does. He senses that you like me, minstrel. There are only few people Thunder accepts, his beloved owner, my lord Robert, Marian because he senses that my lord likes him and because Marian is good with horses, Nuri and you. He hasn't been so sure about me, but you liking me has changed that.”

Thunder neighed to that statement, and Blondel found himself smiling, as well. “Wow, what a compliment from both of you, I'm touched. Maybe, I'm not as suspicious as I've seemed to be at the beginning.”

“You are trustworthy, Blondel – if you give those having to deal with you the chance to look behind your facade, that is. That's why I came here.” Erik turned his head, and his eyes were dark with his fear about the well-being of the ones he cared about so much. “Please, Blondel, you must tell me whom you've hired to free Richard. They should have returned at least two days ago, and there is still no sign of them. I had the chance to ask one of the monks from Eußerthal about news, but he couldn't tell me anything. The weather has changed, there are big clouds coming from the north, and we'll have at least one thunderstorm passing us today. They come from the north, as well, and they could be in danger. I can't sit around and wait any longer, I need to know what happened to them!”

Erik had spoken quietly after looking around to make sure that no one was within earshot, but the urgency and the worries in his voice had not been to overhear.

“Does your question mean that you want to leave the Castle? Is that why you came here?” Blondel asked, slowly.

Erik chewed on his lips. “As much as I long to do that, but no. That's not why I'm asking you for help. Me leaving the castle against my lord's orders would endanger Lisa, and I can't risk that. But, I need to know whom you have hired and where they could lie in ambush for them. I might not be able to leave the castle, but I know someone whom you can smuggle out of it the way you've offered me to do it for me, and he has agreed to do that.”

Blondel narrowed his eyes. “I see. And who should this ominous one be? You're not asking me to leave the Trifels myself, right? This would endanger you and Lisa even more.”

Erik shook his head. “No, this would be too risky, I agree with you. It would only arouse suspicion and unwanted attention. No, Oscar has agreed to do leave the castle and search for them. He knows this region, he has grown up here, and he has relatives in Annweiler and Eußerthal. He can pretend that he needs to visit them, no one would think twice about that.”

Blondel nodded his head. “Hm, yes this could work. Fair enough, I will tell you, Erik of Thanstein and after that, we can work out a plan to smuggle Oscar out of Castle Trifels.”

Erik brushed over Thunder's mane one last time. The stallion had gone silent, watching Blondel and Erik talk, only his twitching ears betraying the excitement he seemed to feel about the two so different men wanting to find his beloved owner. Erik stopped in his doing to gaze expectantly at the blond bard.

Blondel took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders, unfolding his arms.

“The Forest People. I've hired the Forest People.”

 

***

 

“ROBERT!! NO!!!”

Marian's desperate scream echoed through the pouring rain and the still roaring thunder as the young man hurriedly crawled over the mud to his beloved lord, causing each man on the small, overflowed path to freeze in place.

Richard froze with them, incapable of doing anything than just staring at the young earl who had saved his life with his brave feat, and who was lying pale and motionless in the dirt now. Marian had finally reached him, pressing his hands onto the horrible gap in his lord's right shoulder to stop the bleeding. “Robert, no!” the young squire cried again, “please, help him! Don't let my lord die!”

This luckily pulled the English sovereign out of his paralysis again, and he dropped down beside Marian, ripping his wet coat from his shoulder. The Earl of Lindelborn had risked his own life for him without thinking, and Richard wouldn't let this man die here in the wilderness, no way. “Here, use this. We need to stop the bleeding!” Marian took the velvet garment to press it onto the wound while Richard undressed his tunic and his shirt with hasty movements. He didn't feel the icy rain of the thunderstorm pattering down on his naked skin and the cold wind forming goosebumps on his back and arms, his only concern was to bandage the wound and keep the dark-haired knight alive before it would be too late to save him.

“Stop this fight before more good men will lose their health or life! They belong to me and I won't go anywhere without my friends!” he yelled without looking up, the authority of a natural born leader making his words a command none of the fighters could ignore. Richard tied his shirt with the long sleeves as tightly around Robert's arm as he dared to without causing more damage, taking Marian's hand to lay it upon the bandage. “Keep pressing, Marian!”

The squire nodded, and Richard was sure that rain wasn't the only water streaming over the young man's face. “He will live, I promise you, Marian. We only have to make sure that he won't lose too much blood. Your lord is strong. Keep pressing!” Marian nodded again, and Richard stood up, mud and water trickling from his ruined trousers and boots.

“I'm Richard Plantagenet, and I tell you that I won't break my word I've given this brave man. I won't try to escape, but return to Castle Trifels. I know who has hired you to free me, but your services are not needed any longer.” The king looked around and to his utter relief, Robert's fellows seemed to be unharmed. Four more of Gardiola's men lay motionless on the ground, and some of the Forest People were injured, but the attack had cost much less lives than he had feared.

The tall man who had appeared beside him – apparently the leader of the group - must have given his companions some silent orders, because they had formed a circle around Richard and his entourage. The stranger now gazed at him, and Richard found himself in front of a taller man for the first time within years. It were only a few centimeters, but it was uncommon, nevertheless.

“We won't attack you any longer, but considering the state of this brave man and the coward murder attempt of this creature, I do believe that our services are still needed,” the stranger now stated, unmoved, returning Richard's heated glance without flinching.

The king had almost forgotten that Gardiola was lying next to Robert, and one look at him assured Richard that the Italian would never go anywhere again. He was breathing his last breaths, his eyes still filled with hate staring back at him.

“Who has hired you, Italian?” Richard demanded. He stood there, wet, dirty and halfway naked, without a crown on his head or a scepter in his hand to justify his right to call himself a ruler and yet, no one seeing him in this moment would ever have doubted that he was exactly that, and surely the most powerful ruler imaginable.

Gardiola opened his mouth, spitting blood, his chest heaving with his strained breathing. Defiance and hate shone in his eyes and for one moment, it looked as if he would resist the king he had tried to kill, but then, he opened his mouth again to a scornful laughter.

“Your 'dear' friend, Philipp, the king of France. His messenger came to me the night before we've left Worms, paying me a huge amount of silver. All I had to make sure was that you wouldn't reach the castle alive and that it would look as if you had died by the attempt to escape.” He coughed more blood, his trembling hand clenching around the sword sticking in his abdomen.

“Philipp? And my brother?” Richard's face was stern and cold like stone.

“I don't know anything about your brother, Richard the Lionheart. After seeing you fighting, you are truly a lion, I have to admit. But, not the lion defeated the eagle, that was an unimportant soldier.” His snicker sounded more like a cackling, but Richard didn't let himself be provoked or distracted. The relief about his younger brother John not having anything to do with this murder attempt made his knees buckle, but Richard kept up appearances and stayed upright by sheer willpower.

“The Earl of Lindelborn is the eagle here. You are only a vulture, picking up the stinking carrion lions and eagles leave for you. And he is not an unimportant soldier, at all. He has saved a king's life today, and he will be rewarded for this while you will have to face the consequences of your horrible deed of trying to kill a crusader soon enough. I do believe that Almighty God in Heaven above won't let you go away with that, unpunished.”

Gardiola snickered again. “I will wait for you in hell, Richard Plantagenet. I've always hated you for what you've done to my people in Sicily!” He arched his back, weakly, before his eyes broke and the sounds of his forced breathing stopped. The Italian was dead, and no one would ever have to fear him and his weapon again.

 

***

 

“You are the leader of the Forest People?” Richard asked the man kneeling beside him as they tried to wrap another bandage around Robert's shoulder without moving him too much. The tall stranger nodded. “Yes, I am. My name is Matthias, and they are my men.” He pointed at the fighters dressed in green and brown and which had tied the remaining Italian soldiers while their commander had taken his last breath.

Richard eyed him with pursed lips. “I promise you that you won't get punished for what you've tried to do, Matthias, but you have to help us bringing the Earl of Lindelborn to Castle Trifels as fast as possible. After all, this is my dear friend's doing, and he did that only because he cares so much about me and my people who need me, badly.”

Matthias shrugged his shoulders. “We don't fear any punishment, sire. No one will find us if we don't want to be found. We will help you, King Richard, and we will bring you to one of our secret camps, it is rather close by. The earl needs to be brought out of the rain and a proper treatment for his wound as soon as only possible, and the same goes for you, as well.” He eyed Richard's right side, and the English sovereign realized only then that he had gotten injured himself, as well.

“This is only a harmless cut,” he played it down, but Matthias shook his head. “It is more than only a harmless cut, and even they can get inflamed and kill a good man rather quickly.”

“You trust us enough to bring us to your hiding place?” Richard asked amazed, feeling intrigued to learn more about the Forest People although everything inside him screamed to go back to his sweet young knave. But, Robert was severely injured, and Matthias was right with the rain and the urgently needed treatment of the earl's wound.

Matthias shot a look at the six Italian soldiers, and they instinctively stepped back, stopped by the Forest People pressing their clubs and the tips of their weapons against their hauberk-covered backs. “Not them,” he stated, and Richard could only agree to that. The soldiers stood close to each other, but one of them eventually made one step forward.

“Please, your majesty, we've had nothing to do with the count's attempt to murder you. We are good men, and we have sworn an oath to the emperor to serve him. Don't punish us for what he has tried to do.” The man looked frightened, but his eyes lay firmly on Richard's face, and the king's instinct told him that the soldier had spoken the truth. Gardiola hadn't been the man to share the money with his underlings, and Richard had also listened to a conversation between two of them in one of the inns two days ago. The Italians had wondered about their commander's strange behavior and his eagerness to tell everyone where they were going and whom they had to accompany. Of course, the count had hoped to attract enough attention this way, that they would get attacked because someone wanted either to free the important hostage, or trap the king themselves. Such an attack would give him the opportunity to kill the English monarch without getting caught.

The only serious mistake the Italian assassin had made was to underestimate the Forest People, which had proved themselves to be much cleverer and much better fighters than he could ever have suspected it. Philipp II. would fume with rage, but this was not Richard's fault and he didn't care about the king of France's ire, at all.

He looked at Matthias. “I believe them. Please, see to them being brought back to the main route near the Rhine plain, they shall return to the emperor.” It was a request and not an order, Richard was aware that the Forest People would only accept orders from their own leader, and that Matthias had the advantage on his side. But, the surprisingly young man gifted him with a nod that could even be taken as brief bow.

“Of course, sire, as you wish.” he waved at six of his men. One of them had dark skin and black curls, and he was of slender shape, but definitely a trained fighter. “Auba, you will be in charge until you'll have returned to us. See to the soldiers being brought to the main route. You can take the horses of the ones who didn't make it. We have to hurry before this brave king-savior will die under our hands.”

Auba looked down at the Earl of Lindelborn who still lay there, unconscious and silent. “Yes, Matthias. The storm won't follow us, we should be faster when the ground dries again.” He let out a whistle and to Richard's greatest astonishment, the horses that had run blindly into the forest came out of it after a few minutes, stopping on the muddy path with a neigh. White Arrow and the horses of Robert and his fellows hadn't run far, but the mounts of the Italians and the pack horses had disappeared a while ago, and Richard had doubted that they would come back. He raised one royal eyebrow at the dark-skinned man. “You have to show me how you did that,” he said, and the Forest Man chuckled. “I'm not sure if this is something you can learn that easily, sire. But, we can try it after my return.”

He took the reins of one of the geldings and swung himself into the saddle. His five companions followed him after making sure that the six Italians couldn't gallop away, and after one minute, they were gone, the echoes of stomping hooves echoing between the trees before finally fading away.

 

***

 

Marian couldn't remember much of their way to the Forest People's hiding place deep in the forest, the only thing he remembered was Robert's face, pale and with stripes of mud and dirt on his cheeks and in his hair as he had walked beside his litter their former attackers and now allies had made out of branches and twigs. Luckily, they had been pretty fast with doing that, and they had left the place where the horrible happenings had colored the mud in a deep red shortly after the six Italian soldiers and their guards had disappeared.

Matthias, the leader of the Forest People had left four man behind to bury the bodies, they would follow them after seeing to their ugly task. The king had walked on Robert's other side, holding his white Arab's reins trotting obediently through the forest beside his owner. His lips had moved in a wordless whisper whenever he had looked at the young earl, his life-savior, and as strange as it was, but Robert somehow seemed to hear him and feel his presence despite his unconsciousness, because the fingers of his uninjured hand twitched ever so slightly whenever Richard the Lionheart was looking at him.

They had reached the hiding place with the larger tree houses hidden among the thick branches of the oaks and beeches and the few shacks on the ground between these trees after a march of about half an hour, suddenly surrounded by twenty more Forest People who had miraculously materialized from out of nowhere. Marian had noticed to his astonishment that there weren't only men, but women and four or five older children, as well, but he had been too worried about his beloved lord to wonder about that more closely.

Matthias had given some silent orders, and those who had waited for their leader's return in the camp had taken care of the wet and scared horses while Matthias and one of his fellows in this camp, a middle-aged, friendly looking man dressed in the cowl of a Cistercian monk, had brought Robert into one of the larger shacks.

They had bedded the dark-haired knight onto a small but comfortable cot and undressed him, watched by Richard and Marian himself with eagle eyes, the king refusing to accept any help or care himself until Robert's wound would be treated to his liking. The English sovereign stood at the end of the cot with his arms folded before his chest, while Marian crouched on the twig-covered floor of the shack beside Robert's head. The kind monk with the brown waves surrounding his clerical tonsure and the boyish, plump features had taken the lead, undressing Robert together with Matthias and Marian with greatest care. When he had seen Marian's horror after removing the temporary bandage from Robert's arm and shoulder, he had pressed a wet cloth into Marian's hand and ordered him to clean the earl's face with that, obviously sensing that this task would keep the young squire busied and focused enough so he wouldn't freak out while he tended to the wound.

One of the women living in the camp had brought two bowls with water, one filled with cold water and the other one filled with hot, almost boiling water, and she had also brought the monk's medicine bag and fresh linen and cloths. Marian refused to wonder about that, too, he was simply grateful that the Forest People apparently knew how to treat injuries, and that they also had the necessary equipment for that.

The young squire wasn't sure whether or not the monk with the suitable name Brother Hilarius had realized the true nature of his bond with Robert but if he had, he at least didn't show any sign of disgust or contempt.

“You're doing great, Marian,” Brother Hilarius now said in a gentle voice, “we can't wash his hair, but we need to keep your lord clean and dry to avoid him getting sick because of a hypothermia adding to his injury. Just clean his legs and his left arm when you're done with his face, will you?”

Marian only nodded, averting his eyes from the deep-red gap in Robert's shoulder. He had never shied away from the sigh of blood or wounds, but this was Robert, the man he loved more than his own life, and his stomach clenched with a wave of nausea when he saw more blood pouring out of the horrible cut after the pressure of the bandage had been taken away from it.

Brother Hilarius kneeling beside him examined the wound with his lips pressed to a thin line. “I need to remove the tip of the arrow and fix the wound with several stitches,” he mused, addressing Matthias and the king with his words. Richard had cut the arrow but left the tip inside the wound to avoid further damage when he had bandaged it, and another wave of nausea overwhelmed Marian. He heaved a dry retch, moving a little bit away and bending to the side with his arms wrapped around his torso.

A small sob fled his lips and he squeezed his eyes shut to fight against both, his urge to vomit and the tears threatening to make him cry like a baby in front of the other men.

A warm and strong arm around his shoulder startled him and made him forget his nausea for a moment. “Brother Hilarius knows what he's doing, young Marian. The wound is deep and looks terrible, but the muscles will heal and, if we're lucky, then the sinews are not damaged too badly and will heal with the time being, as well. Robert needs you now, so will you please hold his hand and help me keeping him still while our new friends are trying to help him?” Richard the Lionheart's voice was calm and gentle, but it was also insistent and demanding enough for Marian to pull himself together again. The king was right, his beloved Robert needed him now, and Marian would be there for him. He could break down afterwards, but as long as the man he loved wasn't out of the woods, he would be as strong as he needed to be.

The young squire opened his eyes to look the king who was still halfway naked and dirty straight in his eyes. “Yes, your majesty, I will do that,” he replied, his own voice firm again, and Richard smiled at him and stood up, offering him his hand.

Marian took it and together, they returned at Robert's side to do what they had to do to save this brave knight's life.

 

***

 

Pain. So much pain. Burning fire shooting through his right side, his shoulder and his arm, the unbearable heat of a fire that threatened to burn him from the inside and eat him alive.

He didn't know who or where he was, all he knew was that the horrible pain would drive him crazy if it didn't stop. He tried to get away from the pain, to move and make the fire go away, but he couldn't, too weak to even cry or groan when a new wave of hot flames licking their way through his right side shot through him.

He struggled, weakly, wondering why it was so dark around him, because fire was normally yellow and red and burning in the eyes, but the blackness stayed, and he had no clue what he could do to make either the blackness or the fire go away.

Sharp stings like needles being torn through his burning flesh added to the pain, and a strange mewl made its way to his ears. It took him a moment and another sharp sting and mewl to realize that he must have uttered this noise himself, and he struggled more, not wanting to feel the needles again, but something or someone kept him from fleeing from the fire and the pain, and he felt too exhausted and sick to really fight against the pressure holding him down.

Just when he thought he would lose his mind because of the pain, another sound became audible, softly whispered words. He couldn't detect them, but the voice was so gentle and tender, and he didn't need to understand what the voice was murmuring into his ear to sense the love and the care in it. He stopped his weak attempts to free himself and focused on this wonderful voice that kept its tender murmuring, and as strange as it was, but the voice eased the horrible pain he felt a little bit.

The voice was so warm and smooth, so wonderful, and he listened to it until the blackness became all-consuming again, and the last thing he heard before he slipped back into it, was his own longingly whispered “Marian...”

 

***

 

The thunderstorm had finally moved to the south a couple of hours ago, most likely raging over Castle Trifels and Castle Lindelborn before bringing the badly needed rain to the Rhine plain and being stuck between the green mountains of the Black Forest and the Vosges afterwards.

Richard had left the shack where Robert was still lying in a rather deep coma on the cot when he had been sure that his life-savior wouldn't die within the next couple hours, assuring Marian that he would come back, soon. He needed some minutes on his own and some air to breathe, and Brother Hilarius and his calm and reassuring presence seemed to be what Robert and Marian needed the most at the moment. Marian wouldn't leave Robert's side, and one of Matthias' man had brought something to eat and drink for him and another straw mat where the young squire had laid down to get some rest while Brother Hilarius had promised to watch over both of them.

The friendly monk seemed to know a lot about injures and diseases, and Richard was relieved that the young earl was in good hands, probably in better hands than he would have been in the castle. He had briefly washed himself before leaving the shack, but his trousers and boots were still covered with now dried mud and dirt. His shirt, tunic and cot were ruined, but the pack horses with his baggage had been brought to the camp together with him and his entourage, so finding new clothes wouldn't be a problem.

Brother Hilarius had insisted on seeing to the cut in his side and bandaged it after washing away the dirt, and he had put some herbals onto the wound before wrapping the fresh linen around his abdomen.

A silent sound coming from behind made him turn his head. Matthias, the tall leader of the Forest People, stepped beside him with a smile. “How do you feel, sire?” he asked, and his attentive eyes definitely saw more than Richard felt comfortable with.

“I'm fine, Matthias, thank you,” he replied, returning the questioning gaze, impassively.

Matthias' smile deepened for a brief moment. “I see. Would you like to join me and my right hand man for dinner? It might not be what you are accustomed to, but you must be hungry, and the Earl of Lindelborn is not in the state to go anywhere at the moment. I would offer you to bring you back to Castle Trifels, but I doubt that you will leave the earl alone.”

Richard smiled grimly. “You are perfectly right with that, Matthias. I won't leave Robert's side until he is transportable, and as far as I can tell, he is in the best hands possible here in your camp. Brother Hilarius seems to know what he's doing.”

Matthias chuckled. “Oh, he does, don't worry. Brother Hilarius is a healer not only by knowledge, but also by passion and profession, and if anyone can grant to save not only your earl's life, but also his sword-arm, then it is my dear friend.”

Richard nodded. “I thought so. Plus, it would be my honor and pleasure to have dinner with you, I am certain that it will be much more to my liking than the opulent and stomach-churning feasts in Worms have been.”

Matthias gestured invitingly to one of the rather large and impressive tree houses built between the branches of an oak in a height of about fifteen meters over their heads.

“Then follow me, please, sire, I can imagine that you'll have some questions about me and my people, and I will try to answer at least some of them. I hope that you don't suffer from vertigo.” He turned around and went to the tree, climbing the ladder with long-time practice, and Richard followed him after one second, curious to learn more about the Forest People and their leader.

 

_The south of the Pfälzer Wald how you can see it from Castle Guttenberg, the Rhine plain is visible at the horizon :-)_

  



	21. July 1193: The Forest People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard dines with Matthias, the leader of the Forest People, and his friend Jonas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Arrested, I could finish this chapter today, and I wanted to post it right away to not let you wait for too long. This chapter tells you more about the Forest People and their leader Matthias, I tried to stay more or less in character with the legendary person Robin Hood his role is based upon. :-)
> 
> My dear readers, I added a chapter at the beginning with a short introduction and a list of all my characters of this story, you can always take a look there to know who is who. :-)

_The ghosts of the Forest People who have once lived in the thick and dark forests centuries ago, the rumors tell that the Forest People looked very much like their ghosts now do... ;-)_

  


The tree house was truly a little house, it had two rooms, a rather big one that was obviously used as a living and a dining room at once, and a smaller one visible behind a halfway opened door, which most likely served as Matthias' bedroom. The bigger room was furnished with a table with four simple chairs placed around it and two chests standing before the wall next to the entrance and the wall opposite to it. The chests were large enough that two men could sit upon in case that the leader of the Forest People needed more seats for his guests and certainly contained Matthias' belongings.

Richard couldn't see anything resembling a hearth, but that had had to be expected, after all, making a fire in a tree house was nothing one should do if they didn't want to risk a forest fire. The king had seen a shack with a chimney, it was probably the kitchen-shack where the Forest People could boil water and cook their meals, and Richard didn't doubt that the fire burning in the shack's hearth was guarded and watched around the clock by at least two of the people living here. The thick forests of the Pfalz was their home, and they would never risk destroying it with stupid and careless behavior.

Richard had noticed a basket under the house when he had climbed the ladder that could be lowered down to the ground to transport things up and down without having to carry them while climbing the ladder up or downwards. A young man who had obviously been waiting for them in Matthias' house was just about to pull the basket upwards again and put the bowl with its steaming contents onto the table. The house and its furniture might be simple, but everything was neat and in perfect order, the wooden floor of the main room covered with fresh straw and small twigs.

Matthias turned around to Richard who was still standing in the entrance and looking around without entering the house.

“I'm sorry for the simpleness of my home, sire,” he said, his eyes slightly narrowed because of Richard's obvious hesitation to enter the house, fully. Richard blinked and then, shook his head. “Oh no, Matthias, there is no need to apologize for your home, it is a beautiful one.” The English sovereign truly meant what he had said, the tree house might be simple, but it had been built with love and care, and it radiated the atmosphere of a true home Richard hadn't known for at least five years.

“So why don't you come to the table, then?” The young and tall man asked, and Richard felt himself blushing slightly for the first time within months. “My boots and my trousers are so dirty, I don't want to leave the mud all over this place here...”

Matthias relaxed and he smiled briefly. “This is not a problem, at all, sire. They are dirty because you had to fight against us and the coward assassin, and Jonas and I feel honored to dine with you. We will see to you getting fresh clothing and an appropriate place where you can sleep afterwards. So please come to the table and let us serve you.” He went to one of the chests to open it and pull a white linen shirt out of it, offering it to the English sovereign with an inviting gesture. “It should fit you and will serve you as a protection against the cool night until you can dress your own clothes.”

“Thank you, Matthias, I appreciate your kindness.” Richard obeyed the friendly order and crossed the room to take the shirt and pull it over his head before he sat down on the chair the shorter man was pulling for him. He was maybe in his early twenties with a thick shock of dark-brown hair and light gray-blue eyes, and his features showed a barely hidden defiance that seemed rather to belong to his nature than to be a sign that he disapproved Matthias' decision to bring the king and his entourage here to their secret home.

“Thank you – Jonas?” Richard said with a smile, grateful that he could sit on a chair for a while. The happenings had taken their toll on him, and his head was spinning due to his exhaustion and his worries. The young man handed him a wet cloth, and Richard took it to clean his hands with the cloth, his eyes fixed on the other one's face.

“Yes, sire, my name is Jonas. I'm Matthias' second and his best friend.” He took the wooden cook spoon to serve Richard with the deliciously smelling stew before doing the same for Matthias seated opposite Richard with his gaze fixed on the door. “Thank you, Jonas.” Matthias smiled warmly at his friend and Richard got the impression that there might be more between them than just friendship.

Jonas returned the smile and sat down on the side where he could watch the single window that provided the tree house with daylight. The window most likely served as both, a natural light-source and a place where one could overlook and watch their camp, and Richard was sure that Jonas had watched his friend and superior coming to their home together with their guest, because the table had already been set up for three people. The Forest People were surely used to move in complete darkness despite the windows of their shacks and tree houses, because enlightening candles in a tree house would have been as dangerous as a hearth; and the dim light of the stars and the moon blinking through the thick crowns of the trees was oftentimes enough covered with a layer of heavy clouds.

The smell of the stew distracted Richard from his musings, and he took his own spoon to take a bite from his first meal since their early breakfast this morning. It had been only this morning, just a couple of hours ago, but it felt like a lifetime to the English monarch, and the stew made of venison, mushrooms and vegetables tasted so much better than any of the delicate and exquisite dishes he had tasted during all of the countless feasts he had had to endure in his life as a prince and a king so far.

“Your cook is truly talented,” he said after another bite, looking from Matthias to Jonas who had both watched him. “This is certainly not what you are used to,” Jonas remarked, the defiance the king had noticed on him before lurking in his voice. His words didn't sound like an apology though, more like a challenge, and Richard felt his features relax into a brief, but truly amused smile.

“You are right with that, Jonas, I am not. I hardly get something as simple but delicious as this stew actually is. I have to feign appreciation and delight when all I want to do is retch, and this is such a wonderful exception from the things I normally have to swallow – in every sense of the word, not only the food, but also the stupid comments of my 'pleasant' company at the table while I'm supposed to 'enjoy' my meals.”

Jonas looked as if he wasn't sure whether or not the king was kidding, but Matthias chuckled, silently. “I can imagine. I don't want to be in your shoes, sire, not for any price in the world. I prefer my simple and peaceful life here in the forests.”

He filled the mug next to Richard's plate with water that probably came from one of the small creeks Richard had noticed during their march through the wilderness. The king took the mug to taste the water, and the fresh and cool liquid eased the sore feeling in his throat that came from the lump his suppressed emotions had formed there.

“Your water is as delicious as the stew.” He took another huge gulp and let Matthias refill his mug afterwards. “Thank you, Matthias.”

“You're welcome, sire. You can tell our cook yourself that you liked his stew, Brother Hilarius has sworn to never raise a deadly weapon against another human being, and he sees to our well-being not only by treating our injuries and sicknesses, but also by cooking our meals. Two of our women help him with that, but they have to see to other things most of the times, and Brother Hilarius is a talented cook and also knows which plants and mushrooms are eatable.”

Richard nodded. “I see. I will do that. Where are my friends and our horses, by the way?” This question had become more and more urgent now, that his worries about Robert had been taken away from him, and his expression made clear that he wouldn't let go of this topic until he had gotten an answer to his question that would satisfy him.

Jonas snorted, apparently offended about the undertone in his voice that made clear that Richard suspected his companions to be the hostages of the Forest People. Matthias shot his friend a strict look. “Please don't mind Jonas' behavior, sire. He has made some bad experiences with aristocrats who didn't know the true meaning of the word 'noblemen' how they called themselves. He will learn that you are of real nobleness soon enough.”

Richard shook his head. “Don't apologize for your friend, Matthias. I appreciate Jonas' honesty. He doesn't try to hide his reservations and his mistrust, and I like his honest demeanor much better than the sweet lies of all the minions unfortunately belonging to a king's or emperor's court. He has no reason to trust me so far, I have to earn your trust as much as any other person would have to do.”

Jonas looked stunned, and Richard could see redness creeping into his cheeks despite the rather gloomy light of the dawn that fell over the camp. The trees weren't standing as close here as they stood in other parts of this forest, but it wasn't a real clearing, either, and the crowns of beeches and oaks kept most of the orange-red light of the setting sun away.

“We have to earn your trust, as well, I guess,” he said, musingly, his defiance replaced with real astonishment and thoughtfulness. Richard shrugged his shoulders. “Blondel trusted you enough to hire you for a rescue attempt, so I have no reason to not trust you. Plus, you have stopped your attack when I asked you to stop and you were willing to bring us here and save the earl's life. If this is not a reason to trust you, than nothing is. I would understand it if you would keep Robert's men as a guarantee for your own safety, though.”

Matthias laid his spoon to the side. “No, we wouldn't do that. You and your entourage are our guests, not our prisoners, Richard of England. We can't allow you to stroll through our camp or the forest without guards, that's right, but this is only for your and our own safety. We can't risk that our camps will get noticed by other, not trustworthy individuals, and you might be tough and brave fighters, but none of you is used to live in a forest, and there are creatures living rather nearby that could take your unwanted approach as an attack. You are free to leave us whenever you want to leave, and we will see to bringing you back to Castle Trifels or at least the main roads from where you can find your way back without any problems yourselves. The earl's men are with my people, two of you staying with one of us in the shacks or tree houses until the eagle how you called the Earl of Lindelborn so pointedly will be transportable. My people will treat them as honored guests and see to their well-being during your stay here. We have brought your horses to a clearing with a meadow and a creek not far away from here where they can stay for the time being, and four of my people are with them the entire time.”

Richard felt the last remains of the tension he had felt during the entire day leave his shoulders. He picked up his spoon again and smiled at the tall leader of the Forest People. “Thank you, Matthias, I appreciate that more than I can tell you. I also agree with you that it wouldn't be wise for us to stroll through the camp and the forest alone and without your people guiding us. I will talk to my friends and make sure that they will accept your orders as long as we will be your guests, and I don't think that there will be any problem. Our only concern is that Robert will recover from his injury and that we will be able to go back to Annweiler and Castle Trifels as soon as possible. Is it possible to deliver a message from me to my friend still waiting there for any news about me?”

Matthias and Jonas exchanged a look. “Not today, sire, but we can talk about that tomorrow.”

Richard was experienced enough to not push the issue and so he asked another question instead. “You promised me to tell me more about you and your people, Matthias. How come that you live in the forests?”

The tall leader gazed at his friend again before meeting Richard's eyes. “This, Richard of England, is a long story. I can't tell you everything about us, but I will tell you why most of us prefer to live in the forests instead of having a 'normal' life in one of the villages of our home.”

Richard laid the spoon to the side and sat upright, intrigued about what Matthias was willing to tell him. “Please go ahead, Matthias, I'm all ears.”

The rather young and yet so mature and wise leader of his folk cleared his throat, his gaze wandering to the window to stare at the branches of the oak visible as dark shadows that moved up and down in the slight breeze like the arms of a strange creature. Richard could see that the young man's gaze was directed inwardly as he gathered his thoughts and his memories, and when Matthias opened his mouth to tell him his story, the English sovereign listened to him with rapt devotion.

 

***

 

“My name is Karl Matthias of Loewenstein, my father was Wehrner of Loewenstein. You won't know Castle Loewenstein, sire, it is built on top of a mountain in the southern part of this region, about thirty miles away from here.” Matthias paused, and the shorter brunet sitting at his left side stroked gently over his friend's fingers clenched around his mug.

Richard waited, patiently, sensing that the impressive young man didn't tell his story oftentimes, and surely only to a few people. The English sovereign wasn't surprised that Matthias' parents had been aristocrats themselves, he couldn't hide his education and his noble origin, completely, and his behavior was similar to Erik's and Marian's. Whatever reason this young nobleman had had for his decision to live in the forests, it must have been a serious one.

“My father unfortunately died young, he left my mother and me to go hunting with his brother Eberhart, but he never came back. Eberhart told us that he had fallen from his horse and broken his neck, but I am sure that it hadn't been an accident. I was only thirteen when it happened. Eberhart, my uncle, claimed my father's castle to be his rightful inheritance, he showed us a parchment my father had signed and sealed, and he told me that I would have to do what he ordered me to do. I'm convinced that he has forced my father to seal and sign it or that he has betrayed him in some way so my father would do it without knowing what it was. My father would never have taken my inheritance from me. Eberhart even tried to marry my mother, but she had lost her will to live after my father's death, and she died only half a year later, before her brother-in-law could succeed with his ugly plans. From this day on, Castle Loewenstein wasn't a place of nobleness, peace and honor any longer, but a place every resident living nearby had to fear, because my uncle is a robber baron of the worst kind. He oppresses and robs the villagers of the settlements within a range of at least twenty miles with his accomplices now living on my father's castle, as well, and the emperor hasn't bothered to stop him so far. He is too busied with his campaign against Sicily to really care about the people living here. As long as Eberhart doesn't try to rob the emperor himself, he can do as it pleases him.”

_'And too busied with you and the money he wants from you, Richard of England.'_

The words hung unspoken in the air, and defiance had settled on Jonas' features again when his gaze met the English sovereign's eyes.

Richard returned his angry glance with calmness. He had wondered about Matthias' willingness to agree to Blondel's plan ever since he had met him, and he could see the reason and logic behind this unexpected willingness now. If Heinrich didn't get Richard's money because of his escape, he would have to search for another source for the money he needed for his campaign, and the young baron surely suspected that the emperor would take a closer look at the things his lords and knights did, then. He would need the taxes his subjects had to pay him more than ever in that case, and Heinrich wouldn't let one or more of his barons rob the cities and villages to increase their own wealth with the money that actually was his own.

“I see,” he said, quietly, “but how come that you've found your way to the Forest People, Matthias?”

Matthias of Loewenstein sipped from his water. It was clear to see how hard it was for him to tell his story, his eyes showing the expression of a man being haunted by his memories. “After my mother's death, Eberhart started to show his real face, he had tried to hide his true nature from her as best as he could until she died because of her broken heart. He lured travelers into his den of robbers to take their money and jewels from them, and he never hesitated to kill them if necessary, burying the bodies somewhere in the forest. He raped the maids whenever it pleased him, and he forced me to watch him doing it so I would grow up to a 'real' man how he put it. I had to accompany him on his raids, and the misery and horror he left wherever he went made me wish to kill either him or me myself. I wasn't allowed to wear a weapon myself though, but I had to accompany him to learn his 'handcraft'. One day, shortly after my fifteenth birthday, he decided to rob a village in the north, and he took me with him again. This time, he had chosen the wrong village, because the inhabitants had been warned, and they fought back with the help of the Forest People and their former leader Bernhard. I had to sit behind Eberhart's saddle like always, and during the fight, his horse rose on its hind legs and I fell from it and hit my head on a stone. When I came to again, my uncle had fled from this place without me, and I was alone among the furious villagers and the Forest People. Bernhard protected me from their righteous wrath and took me with him to one of his camps. I had sprained my wrist and had a concussion because of my downfall, and he nursed me and let me stay with him when I was well enough. He became my mentor and my family, and he taught me everything I know and helped me to become the man I am today. Most of the people would call him an outlaw, but he has had more nobleness in his little finger than most aristocrats will ever have in their entire bodies – attendants not included, of course, sire.”

Richard smiled melancholy at him. “I can't negate this, Matthias. So, you're actually the son of a baron. Have you ever thought of taking Castle Loewenstein back and turning it into a honorable home again?”

Matthias shrugged. “The day will come when I will be able to do that, but not within the next years. I hate the thought of what my uncle does and that he turned my father's castle into such a horrible place, but I am needed here, and I would never leave my people and let them down.”

“It was clear that you'd care only about a castle built of stone and not about us simple people!” Jonas snapped, and Richard turned his attention to him while Matthias laid his hand upon Jonas' fist. “No, Jonas, I don't care about stones. But, I care about the people living within the walls of this stony castle. Their fate is as important as yours, and someone has to stop Eberhart and his accomplices.”

Matthias nodded. “One day, I will do that, Richard the Lionheart. One day, I will be Karl Matthias of Loewenstein again, but until this day will come, I will be Matthias, the leader of the Forest People. They have given me a home when I've had no place to go, and they have become my family not by blood but by heart and mindset. We are not finished with what we want and need to achieve, and we won't rest until we will have succeeded. Bernhard became injured last winter, he has lost his left leg and he asked me to become his successor and lead his folks. He is still the leader in our hearts, and he helps us with his knowledge, experience and his wisdom, but he can't hold a weapon any longer. He has stayed with the rest of us in one of our other camps but maybe, you will meet him one day. Each of us has their own tragic story, and everyone who has become an 'outlaw' because of a cruel and unfair fate is welcome here. A lot of good men and women have found a new home here in the forests, and we are fighting the fight of justice and for a better world. We help the poor and those who cannot defend themselves like the inhabitants of this village Eberhart had robbed.”

“You're fight is a necessary and honorable fight, Matthias,” Richard assured him, and Jonas wanted to snort again, but his friend shot him a stern look. “Let it be, Jonas! His majesty is not our enemy!”

Richard regarded the shorter man with pursed lips. “You haven't been among our attackers - or rescuers – this certainly depends on how one looks at it.”

Jonas lowered his gaze down. “No, I wasn't. I've told Matthias that it would be dangerous and stupid, but your minstrel was pretty persuading. I decided to stay here and defend our camp if this would become necessary.”

“I see.” Matthias and his friend and lover had most likely argued about it, judging by the defiance both of them showed now. “And yes, Blondel can be a force of nature. It is hard to resist him, believe me, Jonas.”

“Hhhrrrmppff!” Both men blushed, and the English monarch suppressed an amused chuckle. It was time to leave them alone so they could make up with each other, but there was one question he wanted the answer to before he would give them some space. “What about Brother Hilarius? How come that he lives with you?”

“He was the one saving Sebastian's life when we had to amputate his leg. His monastery is the Cistercian monastery in Eußerthal, but you've probably already known that. He decided to stay with us because we need his skills and his care here in the forests much more than his brethren in Eußerthal. One day, he will return to the monastery, but we are glad to have him here.” It was obvious that Matthias wasn't willing to tell him more, and Richard accepted that. He felt tired down to his bones, and he wanted to see the young earl and Marian before trying to get some rest, anyway.

“Would you show me the place where I can get some sleep, Matthias? I would be glad if I could lie down for a while. I'm not as young as you are anymore, and I can't keep my eyes open any longer.”

Jonas and Matthias stood up when Richard rose to his feet, Jonas to gift him with a short nod and a mumbled apology before seeing to the leftovers, while Matthias smiled warmly at him. “Of course, sire, please follow me.”

He crossed the room and disappeared into the darkness as he started to climb down the ladder with practice and ease, and Richard followed him after smiling at Jonas and wishing him a good night, curious what the next days would bring and whether or not he would be able to learn more about these fascinating people and their aristocratic leader.

 

_The path where these 'ghosts' can be found is called 'Path of the 'Waldgeister' (forest ghosts), it is about 3km long and near the city Bad Bergzabern in the south part of the Pfälzer Wald._

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a request: the next chapter will depend on what you want to read: I can write about the next day and go on with the plot right away, or I can add a chapter where Matthias and Jonas will make up with each other (yes, it would include some nice smut). Please, let me know what you want so I can continue with writing and posting! :-)


	22. July 1193: In The Camp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matthias, the leader of the Forest People and his second have had a quarrel and have now to find a way to make up with each other, and Marian and Richard are anxiously waiting for Robert to wake up...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Arrested, I opted for a compromise, including more Matthias and Jonas in this story and go on with the plot and the happenings, as well. The next chapter might jump forward into the future a little bit, maybe two or three days to accelerate things a little bit. I have to admit that I feel a little bit intimidated and scared that we're heading straight to the 100.000 words with the next two or three chapters, I really didn't expect that when I started this story. I hope that it won't be too long or boring, I'll do my very best to make it pleasurable and enjoyable to read and the plot and storyline logical and good to follow along. :-)

_This wooden owl might be a descendant of an owl that witnessed the happenings in the camp of the Forest People while Richard the Lionheart was their guest, and maybe, this owl's ancestor has peeked through Matthias' and Jonas' window in the night..._

  


Jonas was waiting for him when Matthias climbed the last steps of the ladder, standing in the middle of their living room and staring out of the window with a stern expression on his face and his arms folded before his chest.

The tall leader of the Forest People stopped in the entrance of their tree house to take in the sight of his defiant mate and wait for Jonas to finally start the necessary conversation. They had been able to keep a truce while the English sovereign had dined with them, but this truce was over now, and Matthias wasn't so sure whether Jonas would be willing to talk to him or if he would just leave and sleep somewhere else during the night, unwilling to consider his own behavior during their quarrel more closely.

After one or two minutes, Jonas finally did speak up, but he refused to look at him. “Have you bedded the English king, properly?” He must be aware of the ambiguity of his question, but the uncertainty and hurt in Jonas' voice told Matthias that his friend and partner through thick and thin didn't mean to tease him or insinuate that he might have some kind of romantic interest in Richard Plantagenet. It was like always, Jonas' defiant nature making it hard for him to admit his mistake and apologize to him. Matthias had made his peace with his mate's defiance a long time ago, and he knew better than to fuel it on by being defiant and snappy himself.

“You know that I didn't, Jonas,” he only replied friendly, and the shorter one let out a sound that was a mixture of a contemptuous snort and a defeated sigh. “It doesn't surprise me that he didn't find our shacks and straw mats to his liking. After all, he is a king. He might be our 'dear' emperor's hostage, but I highly doubt that he has to pillow his head on the cold stone of Castle Trifels' dungeons. He most likely resides in the most splendid and comfortable chambers there.”

“That might be, but you know quite well that I didn't mean it like that, my defiant mate. Richard Plantagenet is a king, yes, but he is also a soldier, a crusader even, and he has surely slept on harder grounds than our straw mats actually are a lot of times and without complaining. He has thanked me with greatest sincerity and honesty for showing him his sleeping place in the shack next to where the earl fights for his life, and he neither behaved like a 'king' how you put it, nor did he look at his straw mat with anything resembling to disgust or discomfort. Quite the opposite, he seemed to be astonished about the comfort he certainly didn't expect to find in the middle of a thick forest.”

“He might change his opinion about his comfort after having lain on the mat for an entire night.” Jonas was obviously not willing to give the English sovereign any credit or change his preconceived opinion about him. Matthias couldn't really blame him, knowing where his thinking and his experiences came from, but he was truly tired of Jonas' unfair judgment when it came to the impressive English ruler and he wouldn't accept it any longer.

“It is not even likely that he will use the mat tonight, anyway,” he said with a terse underlayer in his still calm voice, watching Jonas closely.

Finally, Jonas turned his head and looked at him. “And why not? He was soooo tired, after all!” he fluted in a silly voice, but there was no real emphasis behind his words. Matthias knew that only his pride kept the shorter one behaving that stubbornly instead of admitting that Richard the Lionheart wasn't like all the other aristocrats Jonas based his judgment on. He himself was the son and the nephew of one of these hated aristocrat, and he oftentimes wondered that the shorter one had yet given him a chance of proving himself worthy to be trusted and that he had even fallen in love with him.

The tall leader of the Forest People pushed this thought aside and for once, it was Matthias' turn to snort. “He only said that to give us some privacy, Jonas, and you actually know that. Everyone wih eyes in their heads and their common sense still intact would have noticed the tension between us, and he was sensitive enough to not prolong our misery and found the best way possible to withdraw without any of us three losing their faces. You don't really believe that Richard the Lionheart would go to bed and sleep peacefully, while the young man, who has saved his life without any consideration of his own life and well-being, lies on a bed only a few meters away from him, fighting for his life? That he would leave the other young man alone and without a shoulder to lean on during the long hours of the dark night, a young and desperate man, who is obviously deeply devoted to his earl and halfway out of his mind with his fear that his beloved lord could die? No, the English monarch is not the kind of man to do that. He only wanted to change into fresh clothes to not risk that his dirty trousers and boots will cause an inflammation if contaminating the wound by accident but after that, he headed straight back to the shack where Brother Hilarius is seeing to the Earl of Lindelborn. If anyone will use his bed tonight, then it will surely be Marian of Lewenberc and not the king himself.”

Jonas didn't answer to that, but he unfolded his arms and lowered his head down in acknowledgment of his mistake and wrong behavior. He looked exhausted and confused, and Matthias felt the last shreds of his anger fade away when he saw the expression of sorrow and regret on his lover's face.

He crossed the room and wrapped his arms around the shorter man, pulling him close to his strong frame. Jonas circled his waist with his own arms and rested his head on Matthias' shoulder. “'m sorry,” he mumbled, almost inaudible.

“I know, love, I'm sorry, too.” The leader of the Forest People inhaled deeply the unique and tempting scent of his mate, a mixture of fresh air, the herbal fragrance of the forest, leather and Jonas' skin. “You must think that I am a weak coward because I didn't come with you to rescue the king.”

Ah, that was the reason for Jonas' behavior, his fear that Matthias would think less of his courage because Jonas had refused to come with him. Not that he would ever do that, because he didn't need any proof of his mate's and second's braveness. “Of course, I don't take you for a coward, love. Your decision to stay here and defend the camp in case it would be necessary was the right one. I am sorry that I didn't want to see that.”

“Do you really think so?” Jonas relaxed in his arms, tightening his grip around Matthias' waist. There was still tension left in his shoulders, but he wasn't as stiff as he had been any longer. “Auba seemed to think that he would get my post as your second because of my cowardice...”

Matthias tried to pull away a little bit to take a look at Jonas' face, but his mate pushed his nose deeper into the soft leather of his sleeveless brown tunic. “Are you jealous of Auba?” the taller one asked, taken aback by this revelation.

“You seemed to be very close lately...” Jonas mumbled against the leather, turning his head to the other side when Matthias made another attempt to look him in his eyes. The young leader of his people sighed, pressing a tender kiss onto Jonas' hair. “I'm merely trying to make it easier for him, love. Auba is a tough fighter, but the climate and the circumstances of his new life with us are not that easy to adapt to. You of all people should know that.”

“I've never missed my old life!” Jonas apparently couldn't believe that giving up everything one had known before could not be as easy for others as it had been for him.

“Yes, but you have grown up here in this region. Auba comes from another continent. Will you please look at me, Jonas?” Matthias pushed him away and laid his hand under Jonas' chin. The shorter man struggled for one tiny moment before he eventually raised his face to meet his lover's ardent gaze.

“You can't think that I would ever betray you like that, Jonas. You are my second because you have truly earned this position and not because I love you. Our people know that, and they will never question that! It was them wanting you to become my second as much as I wanted that, don't you remember what Bernhard has said after his injury? That both of us together would be able to lead our folks and fulfill our mission? You can't have forgotten that! Not to mention that you are the only one who can make me feel the way I do! I love you and only you, Jonas! I guess it is about time to show you how much I care about you and how much I desire you!”

Jonas swallowed when he saw the burning desire in Matthias' eyes. “But what about our guests and the earl...?” he voiced his concern.

Matthias pulled him closer again and bent his head for the kiss he wanted to have. “The earl is in the best hands possible, and Brother Hilarius will inform us when he wakes up. If I had to guess, then I would say that our guests will most likely already be sound asleep – except for Richard Plantagenet and the young squire Marian, of course. No one will disturb us, my mate, so will you please shut up and let me kiss you?”

This was something Jonas could never object to, and a shy, happy smile replaced the defiance on his handsome features as he tilted his head to the side and closed his eyes to happily accept Matthias' tender evidence of his deep love for him.

 

***

 

The silver light of a gentle moon didn't let itself be locked out by the curtain before the window of the bedroom, sneaking its way through the small slits and chinks to caress the two naked bodies on the bed with imaginary tender fingers.

The leader of the Forest People covered his mate with his own tall and strong frame, protectively, but Luna's shimmering digits found their way between their entangled limbs, nonetheless, stroking playfully over the soft skin of the young man, who gave himself unquestioningly to his lover, meeting Matthias' ardent and yet so gentle thrusts with love and trust.

The taller man bent his head to follow the silvery trace the curious moon painted upon Jonas' body with his hot mouth, trailing kisses along the curve of Jonas' shoulder and collarbone until his mate rewarded him with a passionate moan for his tender ministration. Matthias had carried him into their bedroom after their first kiss and undressed him with uttermost care before ripping his own clothes from his body and lowering his shivering lover onto their bed. He had taken his time with showing the love of his life that he was cherished and desired and didn't need to worry about anybody stealing his heart away from him, kissing and stroking each and every little spot of fragrant skin and quivering flesh with rapt devotion. Jonas had been impatient to feel him, but Matthias hadn't let himself be rushed, preparing his mate thoroughly and with clever and cheeky fingers for their first undisturbed encounter after more than two weeks.

When their desire had become overwhelming, Matthias had given both of them what they craved for so badly, covering Jonas with his body and entering him, slowly inch by inch, pausing in between to kiss his mate and tell him how much he loved him until Jonas had wrapped his legs around his waist and pulled him close with one forceful move.

“I need you, Matthias! I need to feel you!” he had whispered, his voice strangled with his passion and love, and Matthias had chuckled, happily, and finally started to possess him with powerful thrusts, his loving eyes roaming greedily over Jonas' face suffused with ardor and lust. His defiant mate was so beautiful in his arousal and devotion, and he fascinated him more than any other human being Matthias had ever met.

Jonas was everything he had always longed for and more, he was brave and tough, defiant and persistent, but also caring and loving, never hesitating to protect and defend those who couldn't do that themselves, even if that meant that he endangered himself with that. Jonas was strong and honest and faithful, and the was his best friend, his right hand and his mate in a way Matthias had never thought it possible. He was his shoulder to lean on whenever he needed one, and he was the voice of reason and concern when Matthias was too caught up in a mission to consider the danger of their doing himself like he actually should. Jonas was his lover and the one who made him laugh and cry, the one who made him strive to become a better person and he could tell all of his secrets and dreams.

Jonas was his everything, and Matthias was determined to show him that, so he would never doubt his deep and undying love for him again as he now snaked his hand between their connected bodies to wrap it around the rock-hard shaft of his mate, the unmistakable sign that Jonas desired him as much as he desired him.

“I love you, Jonas, I will never love anybody else the way I love you!” he murmured against the sweaty skin of his vulnerable throat, kissing his way upwards to Jonas' soft lips. Jonas moaned, his fingers carding through his tousled hair pulling his head closer to deepen their kiss. His manhood twitched in Matthias' fingers, wet with the drops of pleasure he had milked from him with their lovemaking. They knew each other by heart after being together for more than one year, and Matthias could feel that his lover was close to the point of no return, his clenching walls massaging his own aching cock so wonderfully.

“I love you, too, Matthias! More than anything!” Jonas gasped out, arching his back to meet his thrusts with unrestrained passion and lust. Matthias silenced his next words to a strangled moan with another kiss, imitating the act of lovemaking with his tongue as he claimed the soft cavern of Jonas' sweet mouth once more, licking, stroking and pushing his way around and enjoying Jonas' reaction to it. The shorter one with the thick and now hopelessly tousled shock of dark-brown hair dug his fingers into his scalp and shivered underneath him, trembling with the effort to last a little bit longer while their tongues gently battled for dominance.

Matthias increased the pressure and the pace of his hand stroking up and down on his lover's incredibly hard cock and started to thrust harder and faster into his willing body, craving to feel his mate coming undone and losing himself in the throes of passion.

“Don't fight it, love, let me feel your pleasure!” his gentle order together with the sensation of Matthias' calloused hand massaging him and his dick battering Jonas' sweet spot, mercilessly, was all it took to make Jonas lose his battle and come hard with a loud gasp. Matthias held his breath, his eyes becoming wet with the love and tenderness he felt for his mate, the man who completed him so perfectly and made him whole like no one else could ever do. He focused on boosting his ecstasy and prolong his height until he was sure that Jonas had found total satisfaction, before he allowed his own climax to wash over him and take him to the land where only miracles, happiness and love existed. It was a place that felt like the heaven he heard so oftentimes about when he had listened to the priests words; a place he had thought that he would never get there, and which he had yet found here on this imperfect earth in the arms of his beloved mate, because love was the only thing one actually needed to find their own personal heaven, at all.

 

***

 

The first rays of the summer sun were searching their way through the window of the shack, tickling the nose of the sleeping young man before moving on to enlighten the corner where the bed with the injured man upon it stood before the wooden wall of the small house.

Marian awoke slowly and with heavy lids and aching bones, crinkling his nose in the attempt to suppress the sneezing attacks. The pillow his head was bedded on radiated warmth and the scent of leather and forest, and the young squire grunted in annoyance and disappointment when it suddenly moved beneath his cheek. “No, d'nt m've!” he groaned, and a soft chuckle grazed his temple.

“I'm glad that I could be of service, young Marian, but it is time to wake up. I don't think that you want to miss the moment the eagle will open his eyes, right?”

Marian had just wanted to go back to sleep, rubbing his stubbly cheek against the soft garment of his wonderful pillow to find a more comfortable position, but the gentle mockery in the warm and amused voice had him wide awake in one second.

His eyes flew open and he flinched away from the broad chest he had mistaken as a cozy bed in his dazed and sleepy state.

“Your majesty! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to be so impudent, really, I mean... I don't know what has gotten into me to behave like this...” he stammered, staring at Richard Plantagenet with big, scared eyes and a shocked expression on his face.

The English ruler chuckled again and pulled the confused and embarrassed young man back against his strong frame. “If I had to guess, then I would say that not impudence made you fall asleep on my shoulder, but the understandable exhaustion everyone would feel after a day like yesterday. You have sat at the eagle's sick bed for the entire night, not caring about eating or getting some rest yourself, and I didn't mind serving you as the shoulder to lean on you apparently needed more than badly only the slightest. And please don't call me 'your majesty' here among the Forest People, Marian. I do believe that we are far beyond this. I know that there will be times when you'll have to call me like that again to keep up appearances, but I consider you my friend and my friends never call me 'your majesty' when we're alone.”

Marian gazed up at the older man from underneath his eyelashes, daring a cautious smile. “Thank you, sire. I – I consider you my friend, as well, and I feel honored that you think that highly of me,” he said before the memories of the previous day suddenly floated his mind. “Robert, my earl!” he gasped out and this time, the king didn't pull him back when he startled away from him, only supported him when the last remains of his exhaustion and lack of sleep let the room spin around him for one moment.

“The eagle is fine, Marian, don't worry,” another amused voice sounded at his other side, and when Marian turned his head, he saw the friendly monk sitting beside the bed, the one who had treated his beloved earl's wound after their arrival in the camp.

“Eagle?” Marian blinked as he tried to remember the happenings of the last day. It had been hardly more than twelve hours ago, but for him it could have been a lifetime, and the young squire rubbed his temples to ease the pain throbbing behind them.

The plump monk with the kind smile and the boyishly rounded features took a mug filled with a steaming liquid from a small table beside him and offered it to him. “Drink this, Marian. It will help you against the dizziness and your headache.” Marian took it and sniffed, cautiously, but the herbal scent alone seemed to ease his pain and so he started to sip from the hot beverage with a grateful glance in Brother Hilarius' direction.

The monk watched him drink before focusing his attention back on the dark-haired knight, whose face was a s pale as the pillow his dark waves were bedded upon was. “His majesty is right, Marian, your earl is truly as proud and brave as the beautiful king of the skies is. I find this name for the Earl of Lindelborn more than suitable. Plus, he is strong and will heal again like an eagle would do after breaking his wing, don't worry about that.” He shot a quick glance at Marian who had emptied the mug in the meantime, and his smile was almost grimly as he added: “I swear to you that I will do all I can do to make sure that he will be able to use his right wing properly again, because what would an eagle be without his wings?”

Marian felt tears well up in his eyes, tears of sorrow and grief about Robert's horrible injury, but they were also tears of joy, relief and gratitude that there were people caring about his earl as much as he did. “Thank you, Brother Hilarius,” he croaked out between his sobs, wiping angrily over his face because he had really no reason to cry. Robert was the injured one, not he himself, and he was a grown up man and not a young maid weeping about everything and nothing, wasn't he?

The monk stroked over his wet cheek with a soothing gesture. “Don't be ashamed of your tears, Marian, you have been through much more than young men like you should have to face. No one here in this camp will think any less of you because you have feelings and show them.”

Marian swallowed, but he felt consoled by the monk's words and Richard's arm still wrapped around his shoulder. “I want to be strong for my earl,” he mumbled, and both men looked at him with sincerity and understanding.

“You are strong, Marian. Shedding tears because someone you care deeply about is suffering is not a sign of weakness, but a sign of sympathy and love,” the English monarch assured him, and Marian sighed and rolled his shoulders against the stiffness in his back due to his rather uncomfortable position during most of the night.

“Why doesn't he wake up?” he asked, new worries rising like bitter bile in his throat. Robert was unconscious for so long now, lying so pale and motionless in the bed for hours, and this could only be a bad sign. Brother Hilarius and Richard wouldn't lie to him about his earl's state, would they?

The monk smiled at him. “The earl was awake for a few minutes shortly after you had fallen asleep. We didn't want to wake you up because you looked so exhausted, and he didn't want that, either, his only concern that you would get the sleep you needed, Marian. We managed to get some water into his system, which is crucial after such a blood loss. He's sleeping now and not lying in a coma any longer. Sleep, water and love will be the most important things for him to recover, and he will get plenty of all of that here in our camp. Together with my herbals and my special ointment, his muscles and sinews should heal at least almost entirely.”

“You should have waken me up, nonetheless! How could you let me sleep while he was awake and needed me?” Marian pouted, and Richard Plantagenet barked a laugh. “I told you that he would say that,” he remarked, causing the young squire to scowl at him. Marian blushed when he realized that it was the king of England he was scowling at, but he refused to back away and apologize. His Robert had been awake when he had been sleeping, and he was truly upset about that.

“Of course, he would. That's my Marian, my wonderful squire. He's normally hiding his defiant nature quite well, but sometimes, he can't help but let his true self rise to the surface.”

The words were raw and hoarse and weak, more a slurred croak than real words, but for Marian, they sounded sweeter than anything else he had ever heard in his entire life. His head jerked in the direction of the bed, and when he saw Robert's blue eyes looking at him, blood-shot and tired, but sharp and clear, Marian started to sob and laugh at the same time.

“Robert! My earl! You're awake!”

 

_The gate leading to the ruins of Castle Weglnburg, which I've chosen to be Julian of Weglnburg's home castle. (Julian Draxler). There is only little left, but the view from on top of it is more than breathtaking._

  



	23. July 1193: Waiting For News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oscar has left the castle and Blondel and Erik are waiting for news now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Arrested, this chapter took me ages to write, it is some kind of bridge or filler, I guess. I needed something to lead to the next happenings, I hope that it makes sense and hasn't become too boring. The next one can take a while again, but I'll do my very best to not let you wait for too long. <33
> 
> My dear readers, thank you so much for your support and your feedback to this for me very special story, I'm so glad that you like it so much. Your comments and kudos make me very happy, a million thank you to all of you. :-)

Blondel hadn't been able to sleep during the night after smuggling Oscar out of the castle, and he had decided to get up and help Nuri with his horses again to distract himself from the agony of helpless waiting. He was sure that Erik would join them later on, as well, but Richard's young squire spent the mornings with his sister when she was well enough to be up for a while and have breakfast. This morning seemed to be one of her good mornings, because Erik was nowhere in sight when Blondel crossed the yard, even though the blond minstrel was certain that the younger one hadn't slept better than he himself and was probably awake and up for hours by now. Blondel pitied his sister a little bit for her heavy morning sickness, but he was also grateful for her weak state, because it kept her from asking her brother why they couldn't leave the castle. Erik had told her that he needed to keep his eyes on Blondel most of the times, and she had accepted his explanation without further questions.

Blondel smiled when he remembered how Erik had scowled at him when he had told him that, but then, his thoughts wandered back to the previous evening. He had brought Oscar to the miller who visited the castle with his cart on a regular basis to trade with his flour, and the man had agreed to hide the servant under his sacks and bring him out of the castle and down to Annweiler.

Everyone living in the castle knew that Blondel wasn't allowed to leave it himself during Robert of Lindelborn's absence, this was not a secret, at all; and Blondel had told the miller a story about his young fiancée waiting for news about him so badly and that Oscar was the only one he trusted enough to let him be his messenger.  
The miller was too softhearted to say 'no' to such an emergency, the image of a helpless young maid crying her heart out because of her worries and grief too strong for the poor man to suspect anything else behind Blondel's request. He had wiped his eye and sniffed before taking Blondel's hand in both of his and assuring him that he would spur his oxen on to reach Annweiler as fast as only possible.

The bard had actually a bad conscience for having told the miller such a blatant lie and for using the young servant Oscar as his messenger, because the servant with the unruly brown hair was hardly more than a boy yet, but they had no other choice left if they wanted to get the information Erik and he himself craved for so badly. Oscar had only smiled and assured him that he wanted to do that and that he would be fine because he had friends and relatives in the villages close by, easing Blondel's heavy heart a little bit with that. Blondel had given the boy a small coin on a leather band Richard had once gifted him with as a proof that the boy was trustworthy and not a threat, his king and the Forest People would recognize it and know that Blondel had sent Oscar and not one of the many enemies both, the emperor and the English sovereign, most likely had. Hopefully, it would keep Oscar safe and the Forest People from attacking him.

Now, all he could do was waiting, and spending his time with the handsome and fascinating equerry and his beloved horses was the best pastime Blondel could imagine except for spending his time with Erik. He couldn't have Erik because the beautiful young nobleman belonged to his king Richard, and spending time with him was bittersweet torture and pleasure at the same time.

He knew that it was unfair to flirt with someone when his heart belonged to someone else, but he was truly interested in Nuri and fascinated by him. If things would have been different, Nuri might have been the one becoming the love of his life, and the bard simply couldn't resist the challenge the equerry was to him. Blondel was also sure that the mysterious equerry didn't see him as the love of his life, either, and this made it easier for him to keep up his attempts to lure the younger man into his arms.

They desired each other and enjoyed their playful banters and each other's company – no matter how much Nuri tried to deny that - but that was all, Nuri's heart was not in danger to be broken by him. Blondel respected the dark-haired equerry too much to make false promises he couldn't keep, and if Nuri should ever ask him what he wanted from him, he would tell him the truth and admit that he couldn't spend his life with him.

Summerwind snorted excitedly when she saw him entering the stables, craning her neck over the door of her box to let herself be stroked. Blondel chuckled and patted her shimmering mane. “You're my sweet girl, Summerwind, you know that, don't you? You're the only lady that was able to conquer my heart here in the castle.” Summerwind neighed in contentment and agreement, and Blondel offered his palm to her. The fox-colored mare took the carrot he had stuffed in his pocket after distracting the cook with a little bit of sweet-talk, crunching it with another excited snort.

“Summerwind might be the only lady that has conquered you, minstrel, but I am pretty sure that she is only one of the many ladies you have conquered with your sugar talk.”

Blondel turned his head when the equerry's dark and amused voice spoke up behind him, and the sight greeting his eyes was truly delightful.

Nuri leaned against the box of the gelding next to Summerwind, dressed in his usual clothes, a light-brown, sleeveless tunic and leather trousers in the same color stuffed in his boots. A dark-brown belt adorned his slim waist and his dark waves were nicely ruffled as if he had carded with his hands through them. Only the worried expression in his eyes disturbed the picture of pure and utter handsome maleness, worries that resembled almost fear.

Blondel was surprised about this display of Nuri's concern, until now, the equerry hadn't looked as if he was affected by the earl's and the king's long absence. Yes, he was worried about Thunder's well-being, and Thunder missed his owner, deeply, being nervous and upset the entire time, which would probably stay that way until the earl returned. Yet, the minstrel knew instinctively that Nuri's fear had nothing to do with the black stallion, but something with the earl himself, and he wondered what it could be troubling Nuri that much.

“How can you say that?” he now asked, theatrically, putting on an offended and indignant face as if the younger man had truly hurt him with his insinuation. He did that only to hide his own worries, though, watching closely Nuri's reaction. “I would never break the hearts of the sweet young ladies and maids here on purpose, even more because you're the only one I'm truly interested in.”

This rather transparent attempt earned him another snort, a human and very mocking one this time.

“Sure, minstrel, as if I would ever believe you! Don't try to fool me, I have eyes in my head and couldn't help but notice how you look at both, the emperor's royal hostage and his squire. Others might not see what I see, but I do. Erik of Thanstein is a fine young man, so don't you dare trying to break his heart!” Nuri narrowed his eyes at him, and his arms folded before his chest in his usual way tightened with the tension because of his annoyance. For one moment, Blondel allowed himself to admire the play of the defined muscles of Nuri's naked shoulders and broad upper arms, before he looked the equerry in his astonishing light hazel-gray eyes again.

“You could try to distract me so I wouldn't think of doing that,” he challenged him, enjoying how the equerry's jaw worked at this as the younger man desperately searched for an answer.

“What have I done to deserve having to endure your presence in my former so peaceful stables?” Nuri finally muttered, turning around to go back to Thunder's box without another glance at Blondel.

The bard followed him, ready to push his prey a little bit more. Nuri needed a distraction from his worries himself as it seemed, and Blondel was more than willing to be this distraction – after having found out more about the reason for his worries, that is.

The equerry had entered the Arab's box and knelt down when Blondel reached them, fishing for the second carrot in his pocket. He hadn't expected Nuri to continue with their conversation, but the dark-haired man surprised him again. “The carrots are the proof that you use your charm on the poor ladies and maids, minstrel! Our cook is a stricter ruler about her little empire than our emperor could ever be about his own, and she would never provide you freely with her precious carrots for feeding the beasts how she calls my horses. You either talked her dizzy with your sugar talk so she had no other choice than to give them to you, or – more likely – you blinded her that much with your false compliments that she couldn't see anything else but your sweet mouth telling all those lies to her while you grabbed the carrots yourself.”

Blondel fluttered his eyelashes. “You think that my mouth is sweet, really? Then, there is actually hope left that you will let me distract you from your misery!”

Nuri gaped up at him, at loss for words for a couple of seconds. “You're really conceited, aren't you, minstrel?” he finally stammered, to add a not very convincing: “And I don't know which misery you're talking about.”

“The misery you're feeling because of your obvious worries about the earl's long absence.” Blondel ignored the accusation that he was conceited and went straight to the point he was interested in.

“You're worried about your king's long absence, too, Blondel. Everyone is concerned about their long absence. Why would you have sneaked Oscar out of the castle otherwise?” Nuri refused to meet Blondel's eyes now, busying himself with massaging his special ointment into Thunder's leg. The black Arab stood completely still, listening to their conversation after crunching the carrot and letting Blondel groom his mane.

“My reason for my concern is obvious and explicable, and the other residents of Castle Trifels are gossiping and musing like everyone would do in such a situation. You on the other hand behave like Erik does, saying nothing at all about their long absence and silence without any information, trying to act as if everything was fine and hiding your deep concern. Don't tell me that you're only worried about that because of Thunder, I know that this is not the truth. What is it that makes you feel this way? Have you developed a secret liking for the good-looking owner of this beauty here?”

Nuri tensed up and paused in his doing. Blondel could see the deep blush creeping into his cheeks even though the equerry turned his head away. The minstrel had only wanted to lure Nuri out of his shelter a little bit, and the younger man's strong reaction surprised him and also disappointed him. If the handsome equerry was really in love with the earl, then Blondel's hopes that they could get to know each other more intimately would be in vain. Nuri might not have a chance with Robert of Lindelborn, but he wasn't the man to lie with someone while longing for the touch of another one.

Blondel swallowed, readying himself for stepping back and leaving the younger one alone, when Nuri suddenly turned his head and looked up at him again. He was still deep red all over his face, but the expression in his eyes made clear that he was deadly serious about it as he now said: “No, I haven't developed such a liking for the earl, don't you dare ever saying something like this again! My worries are none of your business and if you really want to be welcome in my stables again, you'll better never mention this topic again!”

Blondel flinched, taken aback by Nuri's fury. “Of course, Nuri, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you, I was only concerned about you,” he said as calmly as he was able to. “Please, accept my sincerest apology.”

Nuri took several deep breaths, staring down at Thunder's front hoof. The Arab snorted, nervously, and after another deep breath, some of the tension left the equerry's shoulders. “Apology accepted, Blondel. But please, leave me alone now. You can come back in the evening, but I really need to be alone for a while now.”

Blondel knew better than to try his luck further. He only nodded and patted Thunder's neck one last time. “Of course, Nuri, as you wish. Maybe, I can bring you and Thunder good news in a couple of hours.”

He left the box without any other word and went back to the castle, deeply lost in his thoughts. He believed Nuri that he wasn't in love with Robert of Lindelborn, but if it wasn't a romantic interest he had in him, why was he that worried about his well-being, then?

 

***

 

“Look whom we've found on our way back!” Auba greeted Matthias when he reached the camp with his companions. The tall leader of the Forest People smiled at his third-in-command and pulled him into a brief hug. He had just left the shack where the Earl of Lindelborn was taken care of by Brother Hilarius, and he was surprised that Auba had needed only one day to come back to the camp with his men. They must have ridden in a fast pace, the hot July-sun drying the roads fast enough after the heavy thunderstorm to allow a hard gallop.

“It's good to have you back, Auba,” he said, observing the slim man with the dark skin. Auba was dusty and looked tired, but otherwise he was obviously unharmed and well. “Have you seen to the horses?”

Auba nodded, pulling at the arm of someone Matthias hadn't seen before. “Yes, we did. We brought them to the meadow and left them with Sebastian. We've picked up this young man here on our way back. He was asking nosy questions about us and the king, and after seeing what he had in his pocket, I decided to bring him here.”

Matthias turned his attention to the boy standing beside Auba with a defiant expression on his face. “What's your name, boy and who has sent you?” he asked, taking the small coin with the leather band Auba handed him. He recognized it, instantly, it was the silver coin Blondel had shown him and which the bard wouldn't give away without good reason. He knew that the English sovereign had gifted his friend with this jewelry personally, and that Blondel didn't go anywhere without the two gifts Richard had made him, his harp and this small coin.

“My name is Oscar, and Blondel, the minstrel, and Erik of Thanstein, my lord, have sent me. I serve the Baron of Thanstein's honorable son during the monarch's absence.” The young lad sounded proud and like someone taking his duties very serious, and he lifted his chin up as he continued to speak. “They are deeply worried about the English king's well-being and the well-being of his entourage, of course, and I promised to bring them some information.” Oscar did his best to look grimly and determined, not willing to let his uncertainty and discomfort display on his face, and Matthias suppressed an amused smile.

“I see. That's understandable. How come that you knew where to search for us? If my third picked you up on his way back here, you must already have been rather close by.” Matthias watched him closely, because if their camp was revealed and common knowledge, they would have to give it up and search for another place. They had several camps, actually, but this one was the closest to Annweiler and Eußerthal, and Matthias didn't want to give it up if it wasn't absolutely necessary.

“I grew up in Eußerthal. I have friends and relatives here, my parents still live near the monastery. My older brother Anton trades with you sometimes. He told me the direction I had to go so your men would find me.” Oscar relaxed when he noticed the friendliness in Matthias' expression.  
“Anton is the only one I talked to, no one else, sir. I was very careful.”

“I know Anton, he is trustworthy, I only didn't know that you are his younger brother he mentioned now and then. You've done the right thing, Oscar. Please, come with me, I will bring you to the ones you were looking for. You surely want to see for yourself that they are as fine as possible given the circumstances.”

Oscar frowned. “The circumstances, sir?” he asked, sounding alarmed. He tensed up again, looking mistrustfully around.

“Don't call me sir, Oscar. My name is Matthias.” Matthias handed the coin back to him. “Come with me, I will bring you to the shack where your questions will be answered. I have to talk to Auba, but I'll come back to talk to you later again.” Oscar hesitated for one moment but then, nodded and followed the tall leader to the shack where Robert was sleeping while Marian and Richard Plantagenet had had a late lunch when he had left them. The earl was still very weak but seemed to be out of the woods, and his young squire had calmed down enough to eat something under the attentive eyes of Brother Hilarius and the impressive English ruler.

Matthias knew that others would follow Oscar's example, searching for the emperor's missing royal hostage and his entourage, and they would have to find a solution for this problem sooner rather than later, before someone else would find their camp. Maybe, it was a good thing that Oscar had come to them, he could return to the Trifels quickly and bring them the message that the king was on his way back to ease and calm the castellan's worries and keep him from sending out a big search party.

He opened the door to the shack and beckoned Oscar inside. “Just look my friends whom I've found here,” he said, and four pairs of eyes stared at the newcomer in surprise. “Oscar!”

 

***

 

“What did you tell her this time? That the roads are too dusty or that it is too hot to stay outside the castle for too long?”

Erik's head snapped around when Blondel's voice sounded at his right side, and he scowled at the older man. “Fabian didn't want her to spend too much time in the sun,” he answered almost against his will, inhaling and exhaling slowly to calm his racing heartbeat. “Why do you have always to creep up on poor, innocent people?” he then groused, and the annoying bard grinned at him.

“Innocent? This I might believe you...” he drawled, his grin deepening when red heat formed two round spots on Erik's cheeks. “Ah, well, I suspected that. My king is a gentleman and would never take a sweet young man's virginity just like that. He's surely waiting for the perfect moment to do so.”

“I knew there was a reason to dislike and mistrust you!” Erik sputtered, helplessly and deeply embarrassed, but Blondel only laughed. “You're doing neither the first, nor the second, at least not any longer. Don't worry, your secret is safe with me, Erik. About the poor, hm, this might be arguable. You're residing very comfortably here on the Trifels.”

“I'd rather sleep on hard ground in the middle of a thick forest than having to stay here without any information and worrying all of the time!” Erik gave back, and Blondel's smile faded.

“I feel the same way, believe me. Even more because Nuri has thrown me out of his refuge.” The minstrel looked as rueful and subdued as Erik had never seen him looking before, and he jerked his head in the direction of the rose garden as he started to walk again. “What happened? Have you finally managed to piss him off with your tries to lure him into your bed?”

Blondel stepped beside him and together they walked through the small paths between the blooming bushes and flowers. The warm air of the beautiful summer day was filled with the sweet scent of the roses and the cheerful buzzing of the bees and bumblebees, and Erik inhaled it deeply, hoping that it would make him forget his worries at least for a while.

“I don't expect him to visit me in my chamber. The hay in his stables would do as a cozy bed just as nicely.” Blondel side-eyed him. “I wasn't aware that you had noticed my harmless flirting with him.”

Erik raised one eyebrow at him. “It was hard to not notice it, believe me. Your way of fighting with each other is pretty obvious. And harmless? That might be arguable, as well. I am surprised that he didn't give in to you so far. You can be very convincing if you really want to.”

A shy smile appeared on the older man's face. “Do you really think that I might have a chance? Nuri is very hard to conquer, I must admit.”

Erik pursed his lips. “It would be helpful if you didn't make goo-goo-eyes at every maid and guard crossing your way. I know why you're doing that, to gather information and to learn more about the people living here, but Nuri can't know that. For him, you are just a man flirting with everything and everyone between ten and hundred, no matter whether they are human beings or animals. Not all of us find the thought of just being a number in a line very appealing.”

“The fascinating equerry would certainly be the number one of that line.” Blondel objected, but he looked thoughtfully.

“You and I know that, Blondel, but he apparently doesn't. Time to change tactics, don't you think so? He is as concerned about the earl's and the king's absence as we are. Some distraction would do him good,” Erik said, and the minstrel cocked his head to the side and observed him with a frown creasing his forehead.

“And since when have you become so eager to bring us together, Erik of Thanstein? Do you fear that I could try to hit on you again? I gave you my word that I won't do that.”

Erik shrugged his shoulders. “I don't know, to be honest. I want both of you to be happy, I guess.”

“Hm, how considerate of you.” Blondel turned his head away and grazed with his fingertips over the red petals of the roses beside him. Erik watched him with this strange feeling pooling in his stomach again. It was as if fate had something in store for them, but Erik had no clue what it could be. His heart belonged to his beloved Lionheart, and when Richard's captivity finally ended, his beloved king would leave him to go back to his people, and Blondel would surely leave Castle Trifels together with his king.

There was so much more than only miles and an ocean that would separate them, and Erik knew that he would never see his Lionheart or Richard's minstrel after their departure again. So why did he always feel as if there was something special between Blondel and him, something that lay hidden in the unsteady shadows of a distant future Erik couldn't see clearly at this time?

When Blondel didn't say anything for a while, just kept stroking the soft petals of the sweetly smelling roses, Erik bit his lips. “Are you mad with me because I said that?” he broke the heavy silence and after one more minute, Blondel looked over his shoulder and smiled at him. It was a sad and wistful, but also sweet and honest smile.

“No, Erik, I'm not mad with you. How could I? You have only spoken the truth.” Blondel's smile was honest, but his eyes were hooded, and the young squire could see that he was carefully hiding his feelings and his thoughts from him.

“Even the truth can make someone mad, sometimes,” Erik countered, and Blondel nodded at that. “You're right, but I am not mad with you. Plus, you are right with what you've said. It might be the right time to end my joyful banters with Nuri and show him that he doesn't have to fear any other person of the 'line' how you put it so rightly. It is time to show him that he is undoubtedly the number one, and tonight, when I'm allowed to come back to the stables, I will prove myself to him and make him realize that he can't avoid the inevitable!”

Blondel's words sounded like a promise and a threat at the same time, and Erik could only hope that the clever bard knew what he was doing, because if he didn't, then Nuri's heart wouldn't be the only heart in danger to be broken along the way, but Blondel's might be in the same danger to get broken, as well.

 

_Found pieces from the daily life of Castle Hardenburg near the city Bad Dürkheim. Castle Hardenburg is one of the biggest castles in the Pfälzer Forest and inhabited for centuries._

  



	24. July 1193: A Bed In The Hay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nuri has allowed Blondel to come back to the stables in the evening, and Blondel is doing exactly that, he visits the handsome equerry in his little realm when the other stable boys have left...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Arrested, I was able to write the next chapter today, and I hope that you will like it, because there are more than 5000 words without either Erik or Richard showing up. Only Blondel and Nuri, a lot of passionate and tender moments and a not so evil but maybe interesting cliffhanger at the end. ;-)  
> I wanted to write their encounter in a totally different way, but the boys didn't let me, they had other plans, and I could only obey and write what they wanted me to write. I promise that I am working on getting Richard back to the castle and into Erik's arms, but this story has become really complex and so much bigger than I would ever have thought. I'm as eager to reunite our king with his sweet young knave as you probably are, and I will hurry with the next chapters and do my very best to bring them back together again.:-)

The sun was still hovering over the horizon as a big ball that glowed in a deep orange color, but the buildings of the castle had started to throw their long and dark shadows over the paths and the yards in between them some time ago when Blondel made his way back to the stables, hoping that Nuri would keep his promise and welcome him in his little realm again.

He felt giddy with anticipation and uncertainty because the possibility that Nuri was still angry with him was not as small as Blondel would have liked it to be, and Erik's words were still audible in his mind. He had thought that Nuri would realize that he was just playing a role when he flirted with the other servants and maids, that this flirting was a part of his life as a minstrel who was supposed to charm everyone he met, but as it seemed, he had played his role too well.

Blondel had withdrawn for a couple of hours after his talk with Erik, sitting on the bench in the alcove of his chamber and staring out of the window and into the bright and sunny afternoon. The window of his chamber went to the south, and Blondel had tried to detect Castle Lindelborn, which lay in the south, maybe about ten miles away from Castle Trifels. There had been the slightest image of gray buildings far away in the distance, and the blond bard had stared at this point and mused about a possible connection between the handsome equerry and the impressive Earl of Lindelborn.

The origin of the ruler over the emperor's stables was just a mystery like the man himself was, and maybe, Blondel gave too much thought to all of this. Nuri was probably only worried because of Thunder, or he felt indebted to him because the Earl of Lindelborn had been the one seeing to Nuri getting the post as the equerry of Castle Trifels. It would be understandable if the younger man was afraid of losing his benefactor, because it could lead to him losing his post on Castle Trifels, as well.

But, whatever it was and no matter how much Blondel might want to learn more about Nuri and his strange behavior, he knew the value and necessity of privacy far too well to poke the dark-haired man further. If Nuri didn't want to talk about it, then Blondel would respect his wish and not ask him about his worries anymore.

The stables were as empty as they had been when he had visited them in the morning, and Blondel was sure that Nuri had sent the other stable boys away again like he always did when he suspected that Blondel would come to visit him. It was an easy thing to do and which didn't even arouse any suspicion, because Nuri stayed almost twenty-four hours a day with Thunder, and the black stallion became upset the minute any other stable boy found his way to his box. The Arab was too precious to risk further damage, and Blondel had gotten the impression that the stable boys were relieved that they didn't need to fulfill their duties in this part of the large, wooden stables but only on the other side of them. Blondel and Erik had helped him during the last days and mucked the boxes out while Nuri had fed the few horses that were housed near Thunder, but there was still more than enough work left for the young equerry when they were finished with their task.

The young equerry looked even more exhausted than he had looked in the morning when Blondel reached Thunder's box, and a hot and rather unexpected wave of tenderness coursed through the blond minstrel when he saw the dark circles under Nuri's eyes.

Nuri didn't look at him as Blondel stopped before the box, stroking Thunder's neck and whispering something into his twitching ear, but his shoulders slumped a little bit and he let out a sigh that sounded suspiciously like a sigh of relief and not of annoyance.

“You actually came back.” This was more than Blondel could ever have hoped for, because this short statement was the admission that Nuri had feared that Blondel would stay away from him after their quarrel in the morning and that he was happy to see him again.

“I promised you to come back and tell you what I would know about the earl.” Blondel silently opened the door to the box. “What's wrong with him?” he then asked, gently stroking over the velvet black fur of Thunder's nostrils.

“He doesn't eat. Your carrot is the only thing he has accepted today. I tried everything, but he just won't eat.” Nuri sounded slightly desperate, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against the neck of the Arab. Thunder snorted and stomped his right front hoof, hanging his head low.

“Let me try it.” Blondel stepped beside the exhausted equerry to softly lay his hand upon his shoulder. “I'm sure that you have neither eaten nor rested yourself since yesterday. Thunder senses that. How can he eat if you don't want take care of you and refuse to eat something yourself, Nuri? I want you to leave this box and sit down to drink, eat and rest, I am sure that our strict cook has seen to you getting a tray with some food. Emma might be strict when it comes to the beasts and her carrots, but she cares about hard-working men, and I have seen one of her maids carrying a tray to the stables half an hour ago. Thunder will eat, I promise you.”

Nuri hesitated but then, he nodded his head in defeat and stepped back. “Thank you,” he murmured, turning around and leaving the box without any other word or glance back. His gaze was lowered down at the straw covering the floor of the stables when he disappeared around the corner, and Blondel's heart ached for him as he watched him leave.

When the exhausted equerry was out of sight, Blondel looked at Thunder and patted his neck. The beautiful stallion was watching him with his dark-brown eyes, snorting wistfully when he had Blondel's full attention. The bard smiled and grabbed his head-collar to lead the horse to the feed trough. “Very well, my beautiful boy, lets talk honestly with each other. Nuri is tired and needs some time out, and I want to make a deal with you, my friend: you will eat and see to your hoof healing properly, which means no stomping and fretting about everything and nothing, understood? My part of the deal will be taking care of Nuri and finding out what happened to your owner, the Earl of Lindelborn, alright? You will eat your oat now while I sing something for you, and after that, you will be my good boy and rest, so Nuri can take some rest, as well. What do you think, Thunder? Do we have a deal?”

The black Arab eyed him as if he was thinking about what Blondel had said, exhaling with a silent, protesting neigh. The minstrel stood his ground, returning the almost appraising glance of the horse with all the strictness he could muster, and after one more minute, Thunder sniffed at the oat and started to crunch it with small, reluctant bites. Blondel felt his knees buckle with relief and gratitude, and he wrapped his arms around the shining, black neck and started to sing the lullaby he had sung for his beloved king when they had first met and Richard had still been a young prince.

Thunder's ears twitched and he pressed himself into the touch for comfort, his flanks shivering slightly. Blondel placed a soft kiss onto his mane and after that, all one could hear was the warm and smooth voice of a devoted minstrel singing his songs not only for the black stallion, but also for his king – wherever Richard Plantagenet might be at the moment – and the rhythmical, crunching noises of a horse eating its oat with newly awakened appetite.

 

***

 

Blondel found Nuri sitting in the corner of the stable he had claimed as his little refuge as long as he couldn't leave the injured Arab alone and without his care during the days and nights. Nuri used an empty box near Thunder's place as a temporary chamber, a thick layer of hay together with two blankets and a pillow serving him as a rather cozy bed. Blondel had slept on much harder grounds and places during his time in the tavern, and he was sure that Nuri had made similar experiences himself, because the equerry seemed to be perfectly fine in his secluded shelter, much more than he probably was in his dark and uncomfortable cell in the small building near the stables.

The equerry sat on the hay next to his neatly arranged sleeping place with his back leaned against the wooden wall of the box, staring at the opposite wall with blind eyes, the slice of bread in his hand halfway eaten before it had become totally forgotten.

“Thunder has eaten his oat, and he has finally calmed down enough to lie down and rest. He won't need anything for a while, and if he does, I'll be there to see to him.” Blondel slumped down beside him, pulling his knees to his front and wrapping his arms around them. Nuri seemed to be deeply lost in his thoughts, but he finally raised his hand to his mouth and took another bite from the bread when Blondel watched him from the side.

“You have a beautiful voice, Blondel,” he said, his eyes still directed at something only he could see.

“You have heard me singing before.” Blondel had sung to Summerwind and Thunder before this evening, but Nuri had never acknowledged his skills so far.

“Yes, but never songs like those you have sung today.”

Blondel accepted the mug filled with beer the equerry offered to him, still without looking in his direction. “I sing these lullabies only rare times. They remind me of very personal things,” he said, sipping from the now lukewarm beer. He would have preferred water, but Nuri couldn't boil it in the stables, and it wasn't clever to drink unboiled water if you didn't want to get sick.

“I figured.” Eventually, Nuri turned his head to look at him. “So you only came to bring me some news about your king and the earl? And to take care of Thunder?” His voice was small, just as if the thought of Blondel only coming to fulfill his promise or see to Thunder hurt him.

Blondel glided a little bit closer. “No, I didn't. Unfortunately, there isn't any news so far. And Thunder is in the best hands possible with you. That's not why I came, Nuri, and you should actually know that.”

“So why did you come, then, minstrel?” Nuri narrowed his eyes, and Blondel was grateful for the spark of defiance he could see in the hazel-gray eyes. Everything was better than the resignation and despair Nuri had displayed for at least two days. “Someone has to take care of you, because you obviously can't do that yourself,” he challenged Nuri, putting his mug aside to await the equerry's reaction.

It came in a totally different way than Blondel had expected, because Nuri simply kept staring angrily at him before he suddenly pulled him close, claiming Blondel's mouth in a heated and fierce kiss and silencing his surprised “oh!” with his hot lips.

The dark-haired's kiss was desperate and full of long suppressed passion and desire, and after one second of frozen surprise, Blondel returned the kiss with the same passion, wrapping his arms around Nuri and pressing him down onto the hay. Two could play this game and if this was what the fascinating equerry needed right now, then Blondel was more than willing to give it to him.

The younger one fought to regain the upper hand again for some seconds, but Blondel had been able to rest a little bit during the day while Nuri had hardly slept and eaten over the past three days, and the minstrel had no problems with keeping him down and taking the lead. Nuri growled annoyed and defeated, but he gave up his tries after one more minute, accepting his sweet defeat and letting Blondel have his way with him.

The blond bard took advantage of that, instantly, turning their angry kiss into a softer one. His curious tongue licked its way around in the sweet cavern of Nuri's mouth, taking in his unique taste intermingled with the beer he had drunk and the bread and the cheese he had eaten. Nuri buried his elegant fingers in the tousled shock of Blondel's chin-long hair to pull his head closer and deepen their kiss and for a while, they were content with exploring each other's mouths and getting familiar with one another.

Soon enough, their desire for each other became too strong to ignore it any longer though, and Blondel sneaked his hand under Nuri's tunic to caress soft, warm flesh and smooth skin while one of Nuri's hands traveled downwards to fumble with the cord keeping Blondel's own dark-green tunic in place. It was a tricky undertaking to get rid of the offending garment of their clothes without breaking their heated kisses, and when Blondel had to draw back from Nuri's swollen lips to pull his shirt over his head, the equerry busied himself with licking over the salty and sweaty skin of his collarbone instead, pulling an ardent moan from the bard with that. Blondel pulled him close again, not willing to let Nuri drive him crazy before they had already started the real thing. He wanted to be the one driving the handsome and so mysterious young man trembling in his arms crazy with desire, and he wanted to be the one making the dark-haired man moan and gasp with passion and lust.

His hands roamed over Nuri's arms and his torso, painting ardent patterns onto the hard muscles and the fragrant skin, and when he grazed with his nails over Nuri's hard nipples ever so slightly, the younger one arched his back into the touch, and his rock-hard manhood still trapped in his trousers twitched eagerly against Blondel's thigh.

It was definitely time to free the proof of Nuri's maleness from its prison, and Blondel distracted the other man from pulling at the fastenings of his trousers by imitating the act of lovemaking with his tongue. Nuri moaned and shivered into the deep kiss, his fingers digging into Blondel's shoulder-blades.

“Want you!” Nuri's confession was only a small whimper, but Blondel had heard it, nonetheless. “And you will have me, handsome, don't you doubt that,” he whispered, tenderly, the rough passion he had felt until now replaced by softer and more gentle emotions. Finally, the last pieces of their clothes were out of the way, and Blondel and Nuri both heaved a relieved sigh at the same time. It was not very likely that someone would come here, Thunder's upset neigh in case that an unexpected and unwelcomed visitor would show up at this late hour would warn them soon enough, anyway, and Blondel wanted to do this the right way. He wanted to feel Nuri naked in his arms, he wanted to bury himself deep into him and make love to him until the young equerry would forget all of his worries and fears and only feel pleasure and lust.

“You're so beautiful, Nuri, so so beautiful. You have no idea how much I desire you!” Blondel's voice was hoarse and raw with his own arousal, and Nuri moaned, loudly. “Want you, too. Need you, minstrel!”

Nuri addressing him in this impersonal way again made Blondel pull back and gaze at him, and the sight he was greeted with was truly breathtaking. Nuri's hazel-gray eyes were dark and hooded with lust, his pupils big rounds, and his face was suffused with his desire. The dark waves fell tousled into his smooth forehead, and his lips were red and swollen from their kisses. “Why did you stop, bard?” The equerry now complained, his chest heaving with his raged breathing.

“Say my name, Nuri, and I'll give you what you need. I do believe that I deserve being called Blondel by you at this point.” Blondel gazed down at him, and Nuri bit his lips. “Everyone calls you Blondel, this is nothing special. All the maids, ladies and guards you're flirting with are eager to call out for 'Blondel' all of the time, talking about 'Blondel' when you're not there the entire time and rolling your name on their tongues. I don't like that.” he admitted, and Blondel stared down at him in surprise.

“You don't need to be jealous, Nuri, you're my number one!” he said, but Nuri shook his head. “No, I'm not. Your king is your number one. He and Erik. But, that's fine with me, I knew that from the start. Your king mostly calls you 'friend', and Erik oftentimes calls you 'minstrel' himself without you objecting to that. But, you're different when you're Blondel, at least when you're Blondel for the others, playing the carefree and flighty prince charming.”

Blondel swallowed. “And you want something special, something between you and me, only?” Nuri hesitated but then, nodded his head. “I don't mean anything bad when I call you minstrel. I like how you always react when I tease you like that.”

The blond bard felt touched by the equerry's words, and he bent down to kiss him. “Alright, you can call me minstrel when others are around. But, I don't want that when we're together in this intimate way. You – you can call me Marcus.”

Nuri frowned. He lifted his left hand up to stroke his cheek, and it was only then when Blondel realized that his cheeks were wet with tears he hadn't noticed himself. “Marcus?” the younger one asked, his astonishment audible in his voice, and Blondel nodded. “My birthname. Only few people know it, and it has been a very long time since someone has called me by this name.”

Nuri looked silently at him for a couple of seconds, and Blondel could see the last shreds of the mistrust and reservation the dark-haired equerry had still felt towards him fade away. “I feel honored, Marcus. But, this name seems to make you sad and I don't want to make you sad. Knowing where this name actually comes from, from the Roman god Mars, what would you say if I called you 'Mars' when we're alone with each other?”

Blondel blinked in amazement but then, a happy smile spread out on his features. “I'd be honored if you did that, handsome. Mars sounds wonderfully to me.”

Nuri chuckled softly, wiping one last tear from his face. “Kiss me, Mars!” he ordered, and this was an order Blondel actually obeyed, gladly.

 

***

 

They had taken their time and kissed and stroked each other after their short but important talk, and Blondel was amazed how much Nuri's behavior had changed just because of his willingness to share the secret about his real birthname with him. The handsome equerry had literally melted in his arms after that, responding to each caress and kiss with unrestrained passion and without holding anything back. He was so beautiful in his arousal and so touching in his trust, and Blondel was determined to show him how precious and desirable he was.

They might not love each other like his king Richard and Erik of Thanstein loved each other, or like Robert of Lindelborn and his squire Marian did, but there was a strong bond their shared worries about Thunder and their beloved friends had formed between them, a bond of deep care, friendship and trust that had become stronger because of Blondel's confession, and which would last even when their desire for one another would fade one day.

One day in the future, when Nuri would finally find the one he could truly love and their bond would change into the strong bond between friends then, but until this day would be there, they could enjoy each other without any regret or a bad conscience.

Blondel had sensed Nuri's slight tension when his hard cock had searched its way between Nuri's thighs during their kisses and caresses by accident, and he hadn't tried to go any further than the younger one might be comfortable with. Therefore, he was surprised, when Nuri suddenly pushed a little bit against him to look at him. “I want to feel you inside me, Mars,” the equerry whispered, ardently, and Blondel raised his head to regard him with attentive eyes. “Are you sure, handsome?”

Nuri nodded. “Yes, I am. Look into my pocket, I brought the vial with the oil I use to keep the leather of the saddles and snaffles smooth and soft.”

Blondel felt for the clothing he had thrown that carelessly to the side, his gaze still fixed on Nuri's face. “It isn't your first time with a man, Nuri, is it?” he asked, his tone making clear that he wouldn't let Nuri go away with a lie. The equerry blushed, but he didn't avert his eyes as he replied: “No, it isn't. But, it is the first time that I really want it.”

Blondel had finally found what he had been searching for, pulling the small bottle out of the pocket of Nuri's leather pants. “I will make it good for you, I would never hurt you, Nuri,” he promised, huskily, fearing that he would lose his self-control, completely, if he said more.

The dark-haired smiled at him. “I know, I trust you, Mars. I know that I didn't behave like that ever since we've met, but I've always known that you are not the man seeking only your own pleasure. I know that you won't hurt me. Please, show me how it can be...”

And Blondel did. He bent down to kiss his sweet lover once more, placing kisses all over his heated face while he struggled to open the vial one-handed and with trembling fingers. This here meant too much to him to screw it up, and when he had finally succeeded, he carefully coated his fingers with the cool oil to gently prepare the young man who wanted to give himself to him, freely and with trust and pleasure. It wasn't the first time for the young equerry, but it was the first time he truly wanted it, the first time Nuri actually craved for it, and this was maybe an even more precious gift than his virginity would have been.

The blond minstrel took his time to prepare Nuri and make sure that the only thing the fascinating young man would feel when he finally entered him would be pleasure and nothing else, while he mused about the three names he had gotten from three so different human beings, his beloved mother, his beloved king and life-savior and the young man would be one of his closest friends one day in the future.

His mother had gifted him with the birthname of a warrior – while his beloved prince Richard had gifted him with the name of the most shining and precious color – gold.

Blond was the color that shone as golden as the precious and so desired metal shone, and each young lady or maid envied those who had gold-blond hair. Richard had loved him and valued him before he had known about his gold-blond hair, and he had shown him how precious he was with this special name Blondel.

The handsome equerry Blondel had come to care about that deeply now even called by the name of an ancient God of warriors and fighters, acknowledging that Blondel indeed had become a true warrior over the past years. His weapon might not be a sharp sword, but his sharp and agile mind, his ability to play with words, and his skills when it came to read other people and know how they ticked and what they would do were oftentimes much more dangerous weapons than any sword or knife could ever be.

Blondel had never truly believed that he deserved any of his three beautiful names until this day, but as he now looked into Nuri's hazel-gray eyes, shimmering almost silvery with his desire and pleasure as the younger man met his intensive gaze with trust and tenderness, Richard Plantagenet's minstrel finally realized the truth behind his three names. In this moment, he swore to himself and the three wonderful beings, who had gifted him with these names, that he would prove himself worthy of each of them, now and every single day of his life in the future.

 

***

 

“I'm ready for you, please, take me, Mars!” Nuri whispered at his lips, ardently, and Blondel pulled his fingers out of his tight channel, unable to hold himself back any longer. His poor cock was so hard that it threatened to drive him crazy, and judging by the hardness nudging against his abs, Nuri was as eager to be taken as he craved to sheathe himself deep into his pulsing core. “I won't hurt you!” he repeated his promise as he lined himself up, and Nuri craned his neck to steal another kiss from him. “I know, just do it, don't let me wait any longer!”

Blondel sighed and covered the dark-haired equerry with his own body, his pale skin building a nice contrast to Nuri's darker, sun-kissed skin. The older one had bedded his beautiful lover onto one of the blankets, the soft hay underneath forming some kind of cocoon around them where they could enjoy their lovemaking, undisturbed. Blond hair fell over black waves when Blondel kissed Nuri again to distract him from the first always a little bit uncomfortable intrusion, but the younger one was too impatient to feel him to let him go slow, wrapping his arms and his legs around his hips and his shoulders to pull him close.

The minstrel gasped in surprise as his manhood slipped into the hot and still so tight channel without meeting any real resistance, and he had to close his eyes and take deep breaths to keep his self-control and not just thrust into Nuri hard and fast again and again, the burning need in his groin making it hard for him to keep his hips still. Instead, he gave Nuri a foretaste of what he wanted to do, his tongue conquering the sweet cavern of his mouth again and thrusting deep into it. Nuri's moan tickled at his lips and his short nails dug almost painfully into his shoulders, but Blondel didn't obey his wordless command this time.

He let go of his thoroughly kissed mouth to tease Nuri's vulnerable throat and his ear with the tip of his tongue, while he sneaked his right hand between their connected bodies to caress the hard knobs of his nipples until the equerry arched into the touch. The younger one's hard member trapped between their bellies was throbbing with need and arousal, wet drops of milky pleasure intermingling with the sweat of their lust soothing and increasing the friction every tiny movement of them caused at the same time.

“Mars, please!” Nuri pushed his own hips against Blondel's pelvis and his heels pressed firmly into his butt cheeks. “I need you to move!”

“Not so fast, don't rush me, handsome. I want this to be good for you.” Blondel let his hand travel down between them and when it had reached its goal, he enclosed the pulsing shaft with deft fingers, agile and skilled due to the long time practice of playing a harp.

“Ooooohhh, God, pleeease!” Nuri cried out at his lips, his whole body jerking with the sensation of finally feeling his hand on his aching cock. Blondel had refused to touch him there so far, not because he hadn't wanted to, but because he had known that he wouldn't be able to hold himself back for long enough, then. He began to stroke him in a steady rhythm, the wetness of Nuri's pleasure making it easy for him, and the blond bard lifted his head up to watch his lover's face and see what would pleasure him most.

Nuri's walls clenched around his manhood with every stroke, and he raised his hips to feel his skilled lover deeper inside him. “Mars...” his voice was raw with pure and raw need, and Blondel felt pride, overwhelming tenderness and satisfaction at the same time. He was the one making the young man feel this way, and he would make sure that Nuri would forget the times he had had to do this without really wanting it.

“Tell me if this feels good, handsome, tell me that you like it!” Blondel's voice had a similar rawness as Nuri's had had, his blood thrumming in his ears with his unfulfilled desire.

“Yes, I like that, please move!” Nuri tried to scowl at him, but his arousal was too strong to be really successful. “I don't know how much longer I can stand this!”

Blondel chuckled very pleased. “Since you have asked me that nicely...” he drawled, hoping that the other man wouldn't see through him, because he simply couldn't stay still any longer. His hips started to move to their own will, stuttering towards his own height of pleasure without any chance that they would stop again before he had reached this goal.

Nuri pulled his head down for another fierce kiss, and Blondel stopped thinking and worrying and let the sensations surging through him with such force overtake him.

In and out, in and out, faster and faster until nothing else mattered any longer, and his fingers clenched around Nuri's steel-hard shaft moved together with his body, stroking and caressing and teasing until Nuri suddenly went rigid underneath him. The equerry arched his back with a loud scream that was only silenced by their connected lips, and when Blondel felt the hot and wet evidence of his ecstasy coating his fingers, he knew that he would lose his own battle with the next thrust.

Jet after jet of milky-white pleasure spurted all over his hand and between their bodies, and Blondel pushed one last time into his wonderful lover to fill him with his hot seed and show him that his own climax was as forceful and satisfying as Nuri's must be. His entire body shuddered as he released himself in several almost painfully intensive shots, and he was grateful for Nuri's arms holding him, because he felt like flying high into the skies the very next second. Their moans and gasps of ecstasy and lust echoed in the cool air filled with the fragrance of hay, horses and male pheromones, and when it was eventually over after what felt like eternities, Blondel slumped down on the other man and tried to catch his breath.

The equerry lay underneath him, limp and exhausted, but when Blondel wanted to glide to the side, Nuri pulled him only closer. “Don't leave me!” His voice was slurred and sleepy, and Blondel tenderly kissed his forehead.

“I won't, handsome. Just let me clean us up, it will be more comfortable for you.” Nuri uttered a small sound of protest, but his eyes fell shut, and he curled himself up in the blond's arms and let Blondel wipe away most of the mess they had made with a corner of the other blanket.

“Just go to sleep, handsome,” Blondel whispered into his ear, his throat tight with the emotions he felt. “I will stay awake and keep my ears on Thunder, I promise you. You need to rest.”

Nuri nodded at his chest and uttered another small, happy sound, something between a sated sigh and a soft purr. Blondel carded with his fingers through his ruffled, black waves, enjoying the feeling of the warm body snuggled against his own. The blond minstrel stared at the dark ceiling of the stable, listening to the now slow and even breaths of the younger one, but just when he thought that his lover had fallen asleep, Nuri's whispered words made him tense up with surprise and gasp out almost in shock.

“Robert, the Earl of Lindelborn is not my secret crush, I didn't fall in love with him, Mars. Robert, the Earl of Lindelborn is my older brother.”

 

_I took the photo of this beauty while we walked along the path with the wooden forest ghosts, and I found this photo the most fitting one for this chapter. :-)_

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, yes... Who of you has already seen this coming? :-P
> 
> And yay, we've reached the magical 100.000 words with this chapter!!


	25. July 1193: Two Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robert wakes up the day after having become injured, listening to a conversation between Richard the Lionheart and the Forest People. In the meantime on Castle Trifels, Nuri tells Blondel the story of his origin...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Arrested, almost 6000 words again, I really don't know where this will end... ;-P  
> Richard and his friends are finally making some progress and try to get ready for a soon departure, and Nuri's story will hopefully be logical and believable. I did some research and used real historical happenings, but I stayed vague on purpose, because Nuri knows the story only from his mother, who has told it to him years after his birth on her deathbed. I hope you will enjoy your new chapter, I'm not sure when if I will be able to post the next one before next week because of work and a business trip at the weekend. :-)
> 
> My dear readers, I know that Robert and Nuri are of almost similar age, but in this story, Robert is born in the year 1165, being 28 in the year 1193, while Nuri is born 1170 and therefore 23 in the year 1193. I am aware of Robert's sisters in real life, but I chose to let him be Christoff of Lindelborn's only child in this story. Christoff is the name of his father in real life, as well, I went with the name because it was very popular in the Middle Ages, I only chose the older German spelling instead of the Polish one.
> 
> I added the tag adultery because the former Earl of Lindelborn cheated on his wife, which is considered as a severe sin and condemnable by the church especially in this time, but please be aware that this story is meant as entertainment, only. It is a story settled in the Middle Ages and mentions real happenings and deals with different religions and wars, but I don't want to hurt anybody's feelings with, so if you don't feel comfortable with such topics, just don't read it. I'm writing about human beings and life, and life is not only white and black, but consists of thousands of different shades of gray and beautiful colors, and I always try to write my beloved boys with care and respect.
> 
> If you liked this chapter or this story in general, please don't hesitate to leave kudos or comments, they show me that you appreciate my work and motivate me to go on with writing.  
> A million thanks to all of you who will do. <333

_Earlier that day, in the camp of the Forest People:_

 

The soft murmuring of several different voices rose Robert, Earl of Lindelborn from his deep slumber, and he kept his heavy eyelids closed for some time and listened to the words without moving. He didn't know which day was, or how long he had slept this time, but he remembered clearly where he was and what had happened before he had been brought to the hidden camp of their former enemies. The last hours – or had it already been days since he had become injured? - had been a seemingly endless array of short periods of wakefulness and long periods of sleep; and he felt weak like a newborn baby and was hurting all over, especially his right side, but the dizziness was finally gone and his mind worked properly again.

“I don't think that it would be very clever to send Oscar back to the castle. He will come back with the castellan's soldiers to trap us!” Robert didn't recognize this voice, it sounded rather defiantly, and the owner of this male voice seemed to worry about the safety of the Forest People,only, so he was probably a member of these group himself.

“We can't leave them without any news, Jonas. Sir Walter will start to search for us sooner rather than later, anyway. Sending Oscar back to Castle Trifels might save us some time. The eagle is still not in the state to travel.” This was definitely the calm but strict voice of Richard the Lionheart, but Robert wondered whom he was talking about. Eagle? Had they found an injured king of the skies and wanted to take this beautiful bird back to Castle Trifels when they left the camp?

“The earl could stay here with us until he is strong enough to travel, but it would be good if you returned to the castle as soon as only possible, your majesty!” the first voice stated, still sounding defiantly, this Jonas obviously had no particular liking for the English sovereign. Robert thought that it was probably more a general disliking of aristocrats, but the revelation that he had to be this eagle distracted him from Jonas' problems with noblemen. Robert couldn't come up with any reason why Richard Plantagenet should call him eagle, but the way he had spoken the word left no doubts that this uncommon nickname was meant honorable and expressed the respect the king apparently felt towards him.

“I won't leave the eagle alone here, don't even think of that.” Richard didn't need to raise his voice to make clear that this point was not arguable. “This has nothing to do with me not trusting you that you will see to his well-being, please believe me in that. But, this good and very brave man has risked his own life for me without thinking, and I won't leave his side until he has recovered and safely returned to the castle. Not to mention that I won't leave Marian alone here with his worries.”

“Thank you, sire.” Robert would never have any problems with recognizing the voice of the one he loved more than life itself, no matter how short his uttering might be, or how hoarse his voice might sound. A hot wave of longing shot through him when he heard the slight trembling in Marian's words, and this longing caused him to finally open his eyes.

Marian sat beside his bed like he had done each time Robert had woken up from his unconsciousness and his slumbers, and Robert's bloodshot eyes roamed over the beloved face of his young mate, noticing with dismay how pale and thin he looked. The young squire was the first to realize that he was awake, he must have felt Robert's gaze upon his features although he had looked at Richard sitting at his side and not at Robert himself in this moment.

“Robert! My lord, you're awake!” he almost repeated the words he had said when Robert had woken up for the first time, and the dark-haired earl smiled at him. “Yes, I am, Marian. The dizziness is finally gone, and I feel much better than before. How long was I asleep?” He really needed to know that, because he was experienced enough to imagine what problems their unexplained and unexpected long absence would cause. Sir Walter, the castellan of Castle Trifels, would be forced to search for them, and Robert didn't want to risk that the Forest People would get into trouble because of him. Not to mention what it could mean for Erik and his sister, Lady Lisa if he didn't return in time.

“Your first awakening after your unconsciousness was yesterday in the morning, Lord Robert, and it is late in the afternoon of the next day,” a man Robert remembered vaguely said. He had been among their attackers and given them some orders, and he now stood behind the shorter one who must be this defiant Jonas. The tall man with the shock of thick brown hair had the aura of a natural born leader, even though he seemed to be quite young for leading the Forest People.

“I see. Robert will do fine, don't call me 'lord'. And you are who?” Robert struggled to get into a sitting position, because he didn't feel comfortable with lying flatly on his back while talking to the small group that had gathered around his sick bed. Brother Hilarius, the kind monk who had poured water and broth down his throat when he had been awake, came to his help, gently stuffing a cushion behind his back he could lean against. Robert smiled gratefully at him, glad that neither he, nor Marian tried to keep him from sitting up. He could see in his lover's eyes that Marian was worried about him straining himself too much and risking further damage of his wound, but he was a warrior, the head of the king's guard, and he really needed to keep the last shreds of his dignity together.

“I am Matthias, the leader of the Forest People. I can assure you that you will be safe here and that Brother Hilarius is doing what he can do to let your wound heal, completely.”

Robert nodded, pulling a face when this short movement let his head spin with new dizziness. “Thank you, Matthias. I didn't think that I wouldn't be safe here, but I share Jonas' worries about Sir Walter sending some of his men as a search party. We need to go back to Castle Trifels as soon as possible to avoid serious political damage. The emperor will learn about his hostage's disappearance, I'm sure that messengers are already on their ways, and we can't risk you getting discovered and attacked.”

Marian opened his mouth to protest. “You're not in the state to go anywhere!” he cried out, and Robert suppressed the hot wave of pain shooting through his injured shoulder as he reached out with his left arm to take his hand. “I must return to Castle Trifels, Marian, no matter whether I'm injured or not. We can't stay here for longer,” he said as gently as he was able to, and Richard Plantagenet pursed his lips to a small, regretful smile.

“Spoken like the true warrior you actually are, Robert. We can't leave today, it is too late, and bringing you back to the castle in the darkness is too risky. If we could ride, it would be only a rather short trip taking us half a day, but we'll have to find another way to transport you and should therefore leave early in the morning and maybe take a break in Eußerthal. Your wound is deep and it will break open again if we're leaving too soon. My suggestion would be that we will send Oscar back to Castle Trifels tomorrow in the morning and leave the camp the day after tomorrow ourselves. The young servant is clever and knows this region by heart, and he assured me that he can ride if his horse is not too vivid. I'm sure that we will find a suitable mount for him. He can tell my friend Blondel and my young knave what happened, and I will write a note for Sir Walter you can seal with your signet ring, Robert. Matthias, you should increase the number of your guards, just in case that the castellan has already sent out a search party. He has to make sure that Heinrich's orders will be carried out, and his men might be in the mood to attack before asking questions.”

Robert watched the young leader nod his head. “I've already seen to that. I will send one of my man with Oscar, Sebastian is experienced and has been on Castle Trifels before without anyone realizing that he belongs to us. The servants and guards won't be too surprised when he shows up, he can say that he has some business to do and that he met Oscar on his way back from his family visit. Tomorrow, we will see to making a cart to transport you, Robert.”

Matthias raised his hand when Robert wanted to protest. “You're not leaving this camp on the back of a horse, Lord Robert!” he said strictly, using Robert's title to bring the message home that he was deadly serious about that. “The king calls you eagle for some reason, and Brother Hilarius hasn't sat beside your sick bed for the past two days and seen to your right wing healing fully again just to let his efforts be in vain because you're too proud to be reasonable. He will come with you and stay with you until he is sure that you won't need him any longer.”

Robert swallowed, and the new blur of his vision because he had sat upright for too long told him that Matthias was right. His injury would break open again, and they would be much slower with him trying to keep himself upright on a horse, but his pride screamed 'no!' by the mere thought of lying vulnerable and helpless in a cart instead of sitting in a saddle.

He glanced at Marian and Richard for help, but both men looked back at him with their lips pressed to a thin line, and Robert turned his head away and stared blindly at the wall.

“The eagle and his first squire haven't been able to talk privately ever since he became injured, we should leave them alone for a while.” The English sovereign stood up, and even Brother Hilarius followed his example without any protest. Robert watched the other men leave the shack in silence and the realization that he was finally alone with the love for his life for the first time since they had left Worms overwhelmed him and made him feel shy.

The quiet sob fleeing Marian's throat made him look at the younger one again, and when he stroked his stubbly and hollow cheek with the trembling fingers of his left hand, Marian buried his face on his chest and started to cry.

Robert let his young lover cry, sensing how hard the last two days must have been for him. He kept stroking his hair even though the movement strained and hurt him, but Marian needed his comfort and for Robert, Marian's well-being and comfort came always first. The young man's outburst didn't last long, though, after few minutes, the young squire raised his head and wiped his face dry with an angry gesture.

“I'm sorry, Robert. What must you think of me? You are the one being injured and in pain, and I am crying here like a baby,” he apologized with a blush, and the young earl felt a hot wave of love surging through him and giving him new strength.

“I think that you are the most wonderful being in the world, love. You're sitting on my sick bed for two days without only thinking of yourself by now, worrying about me and being awake almost the entire time, and I do believe that there is nothing you would have to be sorry for. You have surely gotten the worse part of the two of us. I will be fine again, darling, I promise you. I feel much better, and the pain is bearable. My only concern is that you are well and that we will return to Castle Trifels the day after tomorrow,” Robert replied, smiling tenderly at the young man who held the key to his heart.

“I would prefer you to stay here in the camp for longer, but I can see in your eyes that you won't agree to that and listen to the voice of reason, so I won't say anything against our departure the day after tomorrow.” His gaze turned strict when he saw the glimpse of defiance in Robert's eyes. “But you will do what Brother Hilarius tells you to do, and you won't ride on a horse, but let yourself be transported in the car Matthias has mentioned. This. Is. Not. Debatable!”

Robert growled in defeat although he knew that he was not in the state to ride the six or seven miles on the back of a horse, even more because it wasn't his beloved stallion Thunder he could ride. The black Arab had sprained his left front hoof right before their departure to Worms, and Robert had had to leave him in the care of the young equerry Nuri. Robert liked the young man, who had the same black, curly hair like he himself had, and he trusted him and knew that he had left Thunder in the best hands possible, but he would have dared to ride if it had been his stallion and not the mare he had had to take instead.

Robert sighed, trying to push the thought of his horse and the skilled equerry to the side. Sometimes, he had even fantasized that Nuri was his relative, maybe his little brother or his cousin, even though he wasn't of noble birth but a young servant. Robert didn't care that much about origin, though, and he had always wanted siblings, therefore, Nuri being a simple equerry didn't really matter to him when it came to his feelings. Unfortunately, his mother hadn't been able to have more children after his birth, and the earl had always regretted that. He didn't know what it was that had drawn him in to the younger man right at first sight, but there seemed to be a strange, invisible bond between them, and Robert was sure that Nuri felt the same way about him, even though he had never called him by his birthname like Robert had wanted him to do. The young equerry had always addressed him as 'Lord Robert' or 'my earl' and carefully kept his distance, but maybe, Robert would be able to change that after his return.

When he had made up with his second squire, Erik, that is, because this was his most pressing concern.

“Robert?” Marian gazed worriedly at him, and Robert smiled at him, weakly and reluctantly. “No riding, I promise you,” he mumbled, and his wonderful young squire chuckled. “Don't pout, my beloved earl. I will ride beside your cart and distract you. Maybe, I can even take Brother Hilarius' seat beside you for a while. Please, do it for me!”

“This is not fair!” Robert sulked, pulling another wonderful snicker from the one he loved so much with that. “I know it isn't, my brave knight. But, I will make up for it when we're back and you feel better again, and it will be worth it, I promise you,” Marian whispered, bending down for a sweet and loving kiss to give him a foretaste of what he would do when Robert was in the state to enjoy his tender ministration again.

Robert sighed again, this time with pleasure, and when he closed his eyes to enjoy Marian's kiss, he realized that he would gladly endure everything, even horrible pain and traveling in a cart, as long as Marian only loved him and stayed by his side.

 

***

 

_Several hours after Robert's waking up, in the night on Castle Trifels:_

 

Nuri had fallen asleep right after his truly stunning revelation, and as much as Blondel had craved to learn more about his back-story, but he hadn't had the heart to wake the exhausted equerry up again and poke him with nosy questions. He was sure that Nuri was finally ready to tell him more, he only needed to wait, patiently, and try to make Nuri's at the moment hard and straining life easier.

It was probably a good thing that the fascinating equerry hadn't told him more, because Blondel was too shocked to even think of falling asleep after this confession, and so, the blond minstrel lay awake for hours with Nuri's warm body snuggled close against his own, stroking the soft black waves of the younger man and wondering about his words until Nuri eventually stirred in his arms.

“Is it morning already?” Nuri's voice was still raw from his slumber of exhaustion, and Blondel placed a gentle kiss on his temple. “No, handsome, don't worry. It will take some time until you'll be able to sleep undisturbed for more than only a few hours again. I have kept my ears on Thunder, I could hear him getting up to eat some more oat not long ago, but he has settled down to take another nap after that again.”

Nuri stifled a yawn and slowly sat up. Blondel followed his example, and when he wrapped the blanket around both of them, the equerry leaned against him and kissed his throat. “Thank you, Mars, I'm feeling much better,” he said, and the older man could hear gratitude and a slight embarrassment in his sleepy voice. It was clear that Nuri wasn't used to someone taking care of him and offering him comfort and tenderness, and he pulled him close and kissed him on his cheek. “You're welcome, handsome. I've needed this as much as you.”

Nuri huffed a sigh at that, and Blondel reached out for the bread and the carafe with the beer. It would taste stale now, but Nuri needed to eat and drink, and he didn't want to get up and boil some water in the kitchen in the middle of the night. Not to mention what Emma would say to him using her kitchen at this late hour.

The dark-haired younger brother of the Earl of Lindelborn accepted both and for some minutes, Blondel listened to the silent sounds Nuri made while he ate and drank.

“I've told you who I am before I fell asleep, haven't I, Mars?” Nuri finally asked, handing the mug back to Blondel.

The minstrel pushed him a little bit away to look at him. “You've told me that Robert of Lindelborn is your older brother, handsome. That doesn't include me knowing more about your origin or yourself. But, I won't ask you, Nuri, I respect your privacy far too much to do that. If you want to tell me more about your family and where you come from, then I will feel honored and gladly listen to you, and you can be sure that I will keep everything confidential and not tell your story to anyone, even not my king Richard. But, it's up to you to decide if and when you're ready to do so.”

He must have found the right words, because Nuri relaxed in his arms and pillowed his head on his shoulder, obviously making himself comfortable for a longer story. “I trust you, Mars,” he started, pausing again to gather his thoughts. “Robert doesn't know who I am, I mean, he doesn't know that his father is my father, as well. I fear that he will hate me if he learns about me and that his father hasn't always been faithful to his mother.”

Blondel swallowed down the thick lump he felt in his throat. “I don't think that Robert will hate you, but I understand your fear and I won't be the one telling him that you are his brother, Nuri, I swear to you. I would never betray your trust this way.”

“Yes, I know.” Nuri sighed again. “Very well. Twenty-four years ago, Nur ad-Din, the emir of Mosul and Damascus, sent his commander Saladin to Egypt to fight against the crusaders living there. I don't have to tell you that he succeeded and conquered Egypt, I guess, after all, this was one of the reasons why your king became a crusader himself.”

“No, you don't need to, I know about Saladin and his deeds,” Blondel agreed, starting to stroke Nuri's hair again.

The equerry nodded. “Robert's father, the former Earl of Lindelborn was in Egypt at this time, and he became injured during the fights and was left behind to die in the streets of Cairo. My mother Zahra, the third daughter of a rich merchant with Turkish roots who had settled down in Egypt, found him and brought him to her home to nurse him, her kindness and soft heart demanding that she helped the wounded man even though he was the enemy.” Nuri's voice trailed off, and Blondel laid his chin upon his tousled waves, telling him without words that he understood him and wouldn't rush him.

“Christoff, Earl of Lindelborn might have been a crusader, one of the enemies, but he was also a helpless and beautiful young man, and my mother begged her father to show mercy and let her try to save his life. My grandfather loved his third daughter the most of all his daughters, and he couldn't deny her her wish when she begged him to offer her injured knight shelter and care. She sat on the earl's sick bed for days and treated his bad wounds, and when he woke up after three days, he asked her if he was already in heaven because she was the most beautiful angel imaginable.”

Blondel could easily imagine that Nuri's mother must have been a real beauty, and both, Robert and Nuri must have had a father who couldn't have been a deterring sight, either, judging by their handsomeness and noble features.

“My mother only smiled and told him where he was and after that, his recovery made slow progress.” Nuri's voice trembled slightly, but he cleared his throat and went on. “Christoff was a honorable man, he told his 'angel' - how he always called my mother - that he was married to a wonderful wife he loved, deeply, and that he had a little son and had sworn a holy oath that he would come back to them. He had been away from his home for a rather long time and Saladin's soldiers had made his return impossible even before his injuries. His wounds forced him to depend on the merchant's hospitality for months and he feared that he wouldn't be able to keep his oath. The young crusader was severely injured and sick and didn't know if he would ever see his family again, and my mother was the one being that kept him from drowning in his sorrow and homesickness. You can probably imagine what finally happened, and I do believe that no one with a heart could really blame and condemn them. The Earl of Lindelborn and the young daughter of the merchant fell in love with each other, but they both tried to hide their feelings and not break the oath Christoff of Lindelborn had sworn. It didn't take long until the situation became worse for the crusaders, and my mother - loving her own, special crusader more than anyone and anything else - realized that he had to leave her if he didn't want to lose his life in a foreign country far away from his home and the ones he loved. She had some connections, and a friend of her father who possessed several ships promised her to hide the earl on one of his ships and bring him back to the other side of the Mediterranean Sea. In their last night together, my father gave in to his desire for his angel in an hour of weakness, and my mother gifted him with her virginity, the ultimate gift she could make.”

Nuri went silent again, and Blondel could feel his tears falling on the naked skin of his shoulder. “I know that others would call their love a sin, but I do believe that true love can never be a sin, Nuri, so please don't think of their night this way. They loved each other, and it is possible to fall in love with somebody else even though you're already loving someone, deeply.”

The equerry chuckled, sadly. “Yes, you must know that, loving both, your king Richard and his squire Erik, mustn't you?”

“Yes, probably.” Blondel had started to tenderly rock Nuri without even noticing it, and the younger man lifted his head up and kissed him on his cheek. “Thank you for listening to me without judging, Mars,” he whispered, and the minstrel smiled at him. “I would never judge your mother or your father, Nuri. Your older brother Robert and you are both good and honorable, brave men, and it is clear where this comes from. Your father has surely loved both of your mothers, deeply. It's not upon me or anybody else to judge him or your mother. What happened after this night?”

“My father had to leave my mother the very next day, her father's friend kept his word and smuggled him onto his ship to bring him back where he truly belonged, to his wife and his son. My mother stayed in Cairo, but when it became clear that she was pregnant with me, her father repudiated her, angry that his favorite daughter had lain with a crusader and married man. She had to leave her home and flee from Cairo, and she went to the friend of her father again, begging him to bring her over the sea, as well. My father had taught her his language, and as kind as he was, he saw to her traveling with one of his employees. He even provided her with a sealed letter for a young aristocrat who was indebted to him, and the Earl of Eberstein offered her a home. His wife was pregnant, as well, and my mother became the fostress of their son and breast-fed Wilhelm together with me. His father Erhard of Eberstein let us play together and even taught me maths, reading and writing together with his son, and when he saw how much I loved the stables and his beautiful horses, he allowed me to help his equerry and learn everything I needed to know to become his equerry one day.  
We lived a happy life, but my mother wasn't used to the cold weather and the hard winters, and she had never gotten over her love for my father and the fact that her father had repudiated her. She became severely sick shortly before my eighteenth birthday, and on her deathbed, she finally told me the entire story of my origin and my father, begging me to forgive her that she had hidden the truth from me for such a long time. Her final wish was that I would find my father or my father's family, and I promised her to do that, even though I didn't want to see him or his family.  
At first, after her death, I was too shocked, angry and desperate to only think of finding my family. I hated everyone, my grandfather for what he had done to his own daughter, my unknown father for having left her, and my unknown brother for having had the father I had always craved for.  
But after some time had passed, I found myself musing about my other family, and my lord Erhard convinced me that I had to search for them and fulfill my mother's last wish. He promised me that I could always come back to Castle Eberstein and find a home there as long as he and his family would live there, and when the emperor visited Baden Baden one day two years ago and his own equerry became sick, my lord saw to me getting the post here on Castle Trifels, close to Castle Lindelborn where my father had lived with his family until his death five years ago. He almost died at the same time like my mother, maybe, this was fate.”

Nuri's voice was raspy from his long speech, and Blondel offered him the mug with beer again. The young equerry took it and emptied it with three thirsty gulps.

“So I came to Castle Trifels two years ago, and when I met Robert, the new Earl of Lindelborn and my older brother, he was totally different from what I had thought he would be. He wasn't the arrogant aristocrat I had believed he was, but very much like my lord Erhard and his son, my friend Wilhelm, Erhard's son. He was kind and honorable and brave, and he never treated me like a servant or less respectable person. Quite the opposite, he oftentimes visited me in the stables, helped me with feeding the many horses I had to see to when the emperor came with his court, and when he noticed that Thunder accepted me, he spent more and more time with me and became a real friend. I so wanted to tell him who I actually am, I craved so much to call him my brother, but I never dared to do that, because it would certainly have hurt him. He told me a lot about his beloved father, how much he and his mother missed him when he was away for years to fulfill his duties as a devoted crusader, and that his father had kept the oath he had sworn to his mother and had come back to her and their son. I felt so guilty and sad because I could sense his love and adoration for his father, and I just couldn't destroy the image and good memories about him Robert still had. I simply couldn't take his faith away from him and tell him that his father had loved another woman next to his mother, as well. Our father didn't even know that he had another son, Christoff of Lindelborn had to leave Cairo before my mother knew that she was pregnant with me.”

Blondel wasn't ashamed of the tears that were rolling over his face, silently, he simply pressed Nuri closer and kissed him tenderly. “I think that Robert would love you and accept you as his dear brother, Nuri, but I understand why you hesitate to tell him who you are.”

The dark-haired equerry leaned heavily against him. “I live in the permanent fear that he could find out who I am by accident. He noticed that I can read and write, and he asked me about my family and where I come from. I told him as little as I could without arousing suspicions, that my mother had to flee because of the political situation, Robert is a clever and intelligent man, and he knows how old I am and where his father was before I was born.” He looked up at Blondel with a brief smile and gently wiped a tear from the minstrel's face.

“You are clever and intelligent, and you know how to learn about people's secrets. I almost had a heart attack when you told me that you found me mysterious and were determined to reveal my secrets, Mars.”

Blondel returned the smile, ruefully. “I'm sorry, Nuri. I had no idea, really. Is this the reason why you were so reserved and tried to keep me at arm's length all the time even though it was rather clear that you found me attractive?”

Nuri nodded, placing a kiss on his wet cheek. “Yes, it was. I feel so lonely oftentimes, so alone. I miss my home – Castle Eberstein, the only home I've ever known - so much. Lord Erhard was always like a father to me, and I will never be able to give him back what he has done for my mother and me. Here on the Trifels, I have to be careful and keep my distance to everyone, and when I first saw you and the way you smiled at me, I so wished that I could trust you and have you as my friend, because I somehow sensed that we are kindred spirits. But, you flirted with everyone and wanted to free your king, and I feared that you would use my secret against me to reach your goal and hurt Robert with that. So I snapped at you and tried to scare you away.”

“I'm not that easy to be scared away, and I would never use the things you're telling me because you trust me against you or your older brother,” Blondel stated, and Nuri chuckled, weakly. “Yes, I know, Mars. I couldn't know that at first, but you proved yourself worthy my trust and I'm glad that you didn't give up. You're the only one I can talk to, and you love horses as much as I do, so it was clear to me from the start that you had to be a good man. They are my only real friends here. Robert is the only one who's left from my family, it is so hard to not call him brother.”

Nuri sounded so wistfully, and Blondel's heart ached for him. “Erik is your friend, too, handsome. You can trust him. You're not alone any longer, and I will tell you my story when you have slept again. I hardly tell it to anyone, only my king Richard and Erik know the entire story, but I want to give you something in return.”

The dark-haired equerry smiled at him. “You don't need to return the favor, Mars, you have already given me more than I could ever have thought.”

“But I want to.” Blondel traveled with his lips over Nuri's face, and the younger man moaned softly and glided with his hands over his back. “Then, I will gladly listen to you, as well, Mars,” he murmured, pressing the blond minstrel down onto their bed of hay. “I cannot sleep anymore, but I know something else we could do until Thunder will need us again.” His voice had dropped to a low, seductive purr, and Blondel felt his body react to the hard evidence of Nuri's newly awakened desire nudging against his thigh.

He pulled the other man over his body and let him feel his own longing and passion for him. “This sounds like a great idea, handsome.”

Nuri chuckled and pressed his lips onto Blondel's mouth in a heated kiss and for the next hour, the only sounds filling the nightly air were silent gasps and moans of pleasure and the soft snorts of a sleeping horse dreaming of the return of his owner, the young Earl of Lindelborn, who had always longed to have a little brother without knowing that he already had a younger brother loving him with all his heart.

 

_One of the remaining walls of Castle Falkenstein, the home of Mathis of Falkenstein (Mats Hummels):_

  



	26. July 1193: Good News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oscar returns to Castle Trifels where Erik and Blondel are waiting impatiently for good news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Arrested, I managed to finish the next chapter for you before my busniess trip tomorrow, it is some kind of filler chapter again, but we're making progress, in the next chapter, Richard and his entourage will leave the camp of the Forest People to return to the castle. No Richard in this chapter, but a lot of Erik and some Oscar. :-)  
> The next won't be up before next Wednesday or Thursday, I fear, lots of work and 150km distance each day will make it hard to write a lot, but I'll do my very best to reunite Richard and Erik asap. <33

_One day later, on Castle Trifels:_

 

“Have you heard something new?” Jakub smiled when he saw Erik coming closer to the gate for the third time on this sunny afternoon, the question he asked instead of a greeting the same question the young squire always asked when he approached them.

“Unfortunately not, Sir Erik,” he answered, and Erik could see that the experienced soldier was as worried about the silence as he himself felt. The older man normally called him by his name when they were alone, but one of Sir Walter's own guards was standing within earshot, and the young squire didn't object to the 'sir', even though it still felt strange to be addressed this way.

The previous day, one of the monks, who visited the castle on a regular basis, had spread out some rumors he had heard when he had visited the kitchen, telling the maidservants about several unknown soldiers in the colors of the emperor. An injured farmer who had come to the monastery for help had seen them riding on the main route to the Rhine plain, talking in a language the farmer hadn't been able to understand and he had wondered what they were doing there. These things were only rumors, though, and neither the Earl of Lindelborn, nor the English sovereign had been among this group, and Erik couldn't tell whether or not they had something to do with the disappearance of his beloved lionheart. The young squire didn't want to believe that Richard Plantagenet would try to escape and leave him without any note, and he also suspected that they would have heard about such an escape attempt several days ago.

Sir Walter, the castellan of Castle Trifels, had informed him that he would send out his men the next day, and Erik feared for the worst. If only Oscar would come back and tell them what had happened to the king and his entourage.

“No news at all might be good news,” Jakub, who had watched him, silently, now said, and Erik huffed a sigh. “I wished it was, but I fear that something happened to them! Maybe, the thunderstorm has surprised them and someone has gotten injured because of it...” He didn't dare to say out loud what he truly thought, namely that the Forest People had trapped the emperor's hostage themselves to achieve their goals in exchange for the English monarch. Blondel was sure about their faithfulness and honesty, and Erik clung to his reassurance and hoped that the minstrel was right with that.

“The Earl knows how to avoid something like this, he knows this region and the danger of thunderstorms. But the storm could have slowed down their traveling,” Jakub tried to console him, but Erik could see that he didn't believe his own words.

The sudden tumult outside the gate made both of them turn around and Jakub peered through the peephole of the gate to see who desired entrance to the castle. “It's Oscar, together with someone I have seen here before several times. His name is Sebastian if I'm not mistaken.” He went back and pulled at the transom to open the side gate and let the visitors in. Gunnar, Sir Walter's man came closer when he heard Jakub's announcement, and Erik unconsciously balled his fists, stepping in the way of the young guard who obviously wanted to protest about Jakub's seemingly too careless behavior.

“Oscar is my servant. He comes back from a family visit, and I am allowed to let him in!” he said, and Sir Walter's man hesitated. “I have to make sure that you won't leave the castle, Sir Erik,” Gunnar objected, and Erik suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. “I gave my word that I will stay here as long as Lord Robert hasn't returned. This should be enough reassurance for you, because it was enough for your superior, Sir Walter himself.”

Jakub's fierce glance silenced further protests of the other guard. “Your word is enough for me, Sir Erik. Please, step to the side to make room for Oscar and Sebastian, they're coming in with two horses.” He opened the gate fully, and Erik felt his knees buckle with relief when he saw his friend emerging, proudly holding the reins of a fox-colored gelding he remembered as the horse Sven had ridden when they had left. An unknown young man followed him with a black mare, but Erik had only eyes for Oscar.

“Oscar, it's good to have you back. How was your visit and how come that you're riding Sven's horse?” he asked without caring whether or not he attracted attention with his outburst or not.

Oscar let his shoulders slump, relieved that he had finally reached his goal, and he looked exhausted and excited at the same time. “I will tell you everything on our way to Sir Walter, my Lord Erik, I have to talk to him instantly and without further delay, it is really urgent,” he said, looking around for someone helping him with his mount that determinedly strode in the direction of the stables, pulling forcefully at its reins as it did so.

Jakub chuckled. “I'll take your beast,” he offered, waving at Lukasz who had noticed the newcomers and was now heading towards the gate. “Lukasz, please take my post, I have to see to Sebastian and the horses getting something to drink and to eat. Oscar is back from his visit, and Sebastian has accompanied him.” He wrapped his arm around the other man's shoulder and pulled him with him as he started off towards the stables, and Sebastian had no other choice than to follow him, looking rather overwhelmed by Jakub's behavior.

Erik didn't waste time with watching them leave, though, pulling impatiently at Oscar's arm. “Sir Walter will probably be in the library, I'll bring you to him,” he said before Gunnar, Sir Walter's guard could object and tell them that he would accompany them. Oscar had trouble to stay at his side by the fast pace the young squire set up, but he followed him without any protest and one moment later, the small yard before the side gate was as empty, silent and peaceful as it had been only five minutes ago.

 

***

 

“Come in!” Sir Walter's muffled voice sounded through the thick, dark wood of the closed door, and Erik took a deep breath and pushed it open, settling his features into a determined expression. He wouldn't let himself be sent away when Oscar handed the sealed parchment to the castellan, and he wanted to make sure that Sir Walter wouldn't even think of merely trying it.

“Erik, what can I do for you?” Sir Walter looked up from his work, a small smile forming on his lips when he noticed the young servant entering the library after Lord Robert's second squire much slower. “Ah, he is back from his unexpected – hm – family visit. I hope your relatives are well, Oscar,” he greeted them, leaning back in his seat and gesturing at the two hard chairs before his large desk. “Please, have a seat, both of you. My neck doesn't take it well when I have to crane it like this to look at you.”

Erik pulled one chair for Oscar, not caring about him being the son of a baron and Oscar being his servant and actually supposed to do such things for him only the slightest. “Sit down, Oscar, we have no time to waste,” he ordered, and the young man shot him an uncomfortable look and slumped down on his chair. “You know about my visit, Sir Walter? I thought that only Erik and Blondel knew about my departure,” he asked when both men directed their attention at him.

Sir Walter snorted with dry amusement. “This castle and everything happening in between its walls is my business. Erik was as surprised as you are when I told him that I knew about your departure the minute you'd left the castle in this rather uncommon way. I hope that you will come to me and ask me the next time, you could have left much more comfortable on the back of a horse, lad.”

“Oh, I see.” Oscar blinked. He shook himself like a dog would do after taking a bath and fumbled for the parchment he had hidden under his tunic. Sir Walter took it and regarded the unbroken seal. “I have to admit that I feel relieved now. I feared the worst, and only the knowledge that you would be able to bring us the information we all crave for much faster than my own men could have done has kept me from sending them out so far. Just tell me, lad, have you seen the earl and the king? Are they well?”

Oscar gazed at Erik. There had been too many servants on their way to the library, and Erik hadn't wanted to arouse gossip, so Oscar hadn't told him anything about what he knew so far. “His majesty is well and healthy, and so are the squire Marian and Lord Robert's fellows. Unfortunately, Lord Robert has become severely injured during the unexpected attack of a traitor, but he will survive and hopefully recover from his injury without too many problems. They have found shelter among friendly people, who came to their help when they had been attacked by this traitor during the thunderstorm four days ago; and they will leave their shelter tomorrow early in the morning. The Earl of Lindelborn is not in the state to ride, so their arrival won't be before the late evening, I guess, maybe only the day after tomorrow, depending on how fast they can travel with the cart that will transport the earl,” Oscar said, and Erik couldn't hold back a cry of dismay and fear.

“My lord Robert is injured? How bad is it?” he asked, staring at the younger one with deep concern written all over his face. “He was shot in his right shoulder by a stray arrow, and to make it worse, the traitor hit him with his sword in his already injured shoulder afterwards. Brother Hilarius from the monastery in Eußerthal is positive that he will make a full recovery, but the wound is deep and could break open again if the earl strains himself too much. He has lost a lot of blood and is weak, but he was awake and without fever when I left him this morning. Brother Hilarius is the best healer within a range of at least twenty miles and the Earl of Lindelborn is in the best hands possible.”

“Thank God,” Sir Walter breathed out, heartfeltly, and Erik could only agree with him. He had still been angry with his lord because of the earl keeping him trapped on the castle and using him as an extortion for his beloved king; but the mere thought that the young earl had almost lost his life made him forget his anger, completely. Oscar seemed to sense his thoughts, because he smiled at him and said: “The Earl of Lindelborn became injured when he saved the king's life during the attack. The emperor had decided to let them be accompanied and guarded by an Italian count and his soldiers, and the count was the traitor and tried to kill the king and let it look as if the Forest People were responsible for this horrible deed. His majesty owes his life to him, and he calls the earl 'eagle' because of his braveness.”

Sir Walter looked up from the parchment he had read during Oscar's passionate speech. His smile was a mixture of worries and amusement. “Then, his majesty and the earl have had great luck that the Forest People showed up just in time to make sure that this Italian wouldn't be successful. Really a very fortunate coincidence,” he drawled, and Erik knew that his dark blush was visible despite the rather gloomy light in the library.

“Yes, indeed, very fortunate,” he mumbled, avoiding the castellan's musing glance. Oscar chewed on his lip, trying to look nonchalant. “They have been of great help, offering shelter because of the thunderstorm and the earl's injury,” he said, and Sir Walter lifted his hand in a calming gesture. “Your friends are safe, don't worry, lad. No one under my command will harm them. His majesty has informed me about everything, and I think it wise to keep our conversation among these walls. No need to worry anyone. I'll have to send out my men, nonetheless, it wouldn't go unnoticed by the emperor if I didn't.”

Erik felt his heart beat faster with new fear. “Is that really necessary? I mean, they will be back the day after tomorrow at the latest, and you know that they are safe...”

“Unfortunately, I have no other choice in this matter, Erik. The thunderstorm has been an explanation for the delay of their return until yesterday, and today, it is too late to start the search, anyway. But, you don't have to worry, because I think I have heard some rumors of the king and his entourage having been forced to take another route because of the storm and that they will probably approach the castle from the south. It would be only logical to send my men to the south then, as well, don't you think so?”

Oscar nodded his head that vigorously that Erik feared for his vertebra. “Yes, I've heard the same rumors during my visit, Sir Walter. That's why I came to you to tell you the news!” he cried out, and Erik was glad that he was already sitting because his knees felt like jelly because of his relief. The castellan showed more cooperation and understanding than he could ever have hoped for, and his smile of gratitude lit up the gloomy library like the sun.

“Oh yes, very good. What does his majesty write? Is he well?” he dared to ask, and Sir Walter's face softened. Erik hadn't noticed until now that there had been a small piece of rolled parchment stuffed into the bigger role, which the castellan now gave him. “This is for you, Erik, his majesty asked me to give it to you unread.”

The young squire resisted the urge to press the proof that his lionheart hadn't forgotten him against his chest right over his hammering heart only with effort, instead he hid it in the sleeve of his tunic with trembling fingers. “Thank you, Sir Walter,” he murmured, craving to leave the library and search for a place where he could read his beloved king's words undisturbed and without prying eyes watching him.

The older man observed him for one moment before nodding at the two young men. “I'll have to see to choosing the right men for the search party, and Oscar looks as if he could do with something to eat. Erik, you might want to make sure that the rooms of his majesty will be ready for his return and after that, you should inform the king's minstrel and dear friend about his majesty's imminent return. I'm sure that he is waiting for news as impatiently as we have been,” he said, and Erik and Oscar rose to their feet. “Of course, Sir Walter, we will leave you alone, then.”

Erik waved at Oscar to follow him, the small piece of parchment almost burning his skin as he left the library together with his companion. “Just go to the kitchen, Oscar, I'll see you later in the king's rooms,” he suggested, and Oscar shot him a sympathetic look. “He is fine and more than eager to return to you, my lord Erik,” he said silently and with an understanding smile.

Erik watched him start off towards the kitchen before pulling the precious evidence of Richard's well-being out of his sleeve to finally press it against his beating heart after gazing around to see if someone was watching him.

When he was sure that he was alone, he headed along the corridor with fast steps and a happy smile on his face. His lionheart still cared about him, and it wouldn't be long until he would see him again. Only one or two more days and his beloved king would be back, and Erik already knew a way to show him how deeply he had missed him and how much he loved him.

It was finally the time to lose his virginity, and if Richard still loved him, then Erik wanted him to be the one taking it.

 

***

 

_'My dear Erik,_

_unfortunate happenings have kept me away from you for far too long, and I am so very sorry for having you caused harm and sorrow with my unexplained and involuntary absence. I have prayed for fate being friendly to us again, and my prayers might have been heard, because I am positive that I will be able to return to you soon again. Until this moment will come, rest assured that my heart is where you are, and that you are filling all of my thoughts and my entire soul during the days and the nights as long as we will be apart._

_Forever Yours_

_R.'_

 

Richard's written words repeated themselves over and over again in Erik's mind when he was heading for the stables, and his heart was hammering by the memory of his lionheart's wonderful love declaration. Of course, the English sovereign couldn't write in a note others might read by accident how much he loved him with clear words, and he had been foresighted enough to set only the capital of his name at the end of his note instead of his full name, but Richard's short letter was the most beautiful and perfect love declaration imaginable, and Erik simply couldn't stop smiling.

The young squire hadn't expected that Richard would write a special note for him, he would have been happy and content with being allowed to read the official one for Sir Walter and see for himself that it had really been the king himself who had written it, because he knew his handwriting by heart after the months they had spent together. But, his lionheart had been so kind to write a letter meant only for him to read, as well, and his carefully chosen words were the most precious things anyone had ever said to him.

Erik sighed with both, deep longing and utter happiness as he opened the door to the stables, hoping that he would find Blondel in Thunder's box where they would be undisturbed to bring him the good news. He needed someone he could share his overwhelming feelings with, and the blond minstrel was the only one who understood him.

His sister Lisa knew about his feelings for the impressive ruler, but Erik hadn't told her much about his relationship with the emperor's hostage for her own sake. It was better if she knew only little, and she was also not well enough to burst into her room and upset her with his story. Her nausea was better, but she was pale and dizzy, and the midwife that came to Castle Trifels on a regular basis had ordered her to stay in bed for a couple of days and avoid the heat and anything straining. Lisa had to drink a special beverage she brew for her, and it seemed to help her, but Erik wouldn't be the one telling her about the earl's injury and risk to harm her and her baby with that. He knew that Oscar would keep his mouth shut, as well, and Sir Walter would tell his soldiers only the absolutely necessary. Erik hoped that they could keep the real happenings a secret until the king and his entourage had safely returned to the castle and he heaved a sigh when he indeed found Blondel in Thunder's box, grooming his mane and humming a soft melody as he did so.

The young squire approached them, carefully, still reasonable enough to remember the stallion's injury and his mistrust against newcomers. Blondel turned his head and smiled at him when he reached the box, patting the shining black neck of the beautiful horse.

“So you have found your way here again, Erik. I hope your beaming is caused by good news you might have for me and my friend here.” Thunder snorted, craning his neck to sniff at Erik's hand. The young squire opened the door to the box and entered it. “I have indeed rather good news, the king and his entourage are safe and more or less well, they should be back the day after tomorrow the latest.” He looked around to make sure that no other stable boy was within earshot.

He could see the horses Oscar and Sebastian had ridden standing in their boxes, which proved to him that Jakub had been here, and he suspected that Blondel recognized the gelding Sven had ridden, but he doubted that Jakub had told him anything while Sebastian standing next to them. Two of the older stable boys were visible, feeding the cold-blooded horses housed in the boxes at the other end of the stables, but they were too far away to listen to them.

“Where is Nuri?” he asked when he didn't see the equerry, something that hadn't happened so far. Blondel seemed to have made progress with the dark-haired ruler over the stables, because Nuri had never left him alone with the earl's precious Arab before, at least as far as Erik remembered it.

“He's sleeping. Thunder wasn't well, and Nuri has hardly slept and eaten over the past few days. Thunder and I have made a deal, he will eat and not endanger his healing hoof, while I will see to Nuri taking care of himself and find out what happened to his owner.”

Thunder neighed at that, and Erik chuckled and stroked his smooth nostrils. “Your owner will be back, soon, my pretty boy. Unfortunately, he became injured by the attack of a traitor, an Italian count the emperor had sent with them to their protection, actually, but he will survive and hopefully make a full recover.”

Blondel paled, staring at Erik with worried eyes. “They have been attacked and gotten injured? Erik, don't leave me here in suspense! How is my king Richard?”

Erik laid his hand onto the older man's arm in a calming gesture. “His majesty is well and uninjured, Blondel, don't worry. My lord saved his life without any consideration of his own well-being as it seems, the unworthy attacker hit his right shoulder with his sword during the fight. The Forest People came to their help, and they offered shelter and are nursing Lord Robert until he's strong enough to be transported back to the castle in a cart, which will hopefully be tomorrow. If everything goes well, they should be here again tomorrow in the evening.”

Blondel exhaled the air he had been holding with a silent “phewwww.” He regarded Erik for one moment, before turning to Thunder again. “Have you heard, pretty boy? Your owner is coming back to you. It will take some time until he can ride you again, but I am sure that we will find a way to bring the two of you together so you can see for yourself that he is alive and as well as one can be with such an injury.”

The black stallion neighed again, rubbing his mouth against Erik's chest before he turned around and went to the feeding trough, starting to crunch his hay. The two men watched him for a while before Blondel finally smiled at the younger one. “You have brought him the news he has craved for – we all have craved for. Is Oscar well? I didn't see him, only Jakub came over for a few minutes to see to the horse he has ridden. He was accompanied by a man I remember from my visit when I contacted the Forest People, but we couldn't talk because of Linus and Andreas.”

Erik followed him out of the box and closed it. “Yes, Oscar is well. He has gone to the kitchen to grab something to eat. Maybe, we can come back later to tell us everything from his visit. I am sure that Nuri would like to learn more about the happenings, as well.”

Blondel's face was rather impassive, but the expression in his eyes was hard to misread. Erik grinned. “You have made some progress, haven't you? Have you already conquered the fortress?”

The blond minstrel tried to scowl at him, but Erik saw right through him. “This is none of your business, young knave. You should focus on the way you want to show your king how much you've missed him when he comes back to you, instead of teasing poor, innocent men!”

The squire chuckled. “Well spoken, minstrel. But you don't have to worry about that, I already know a way to show my king how much I've missed him. I will be the best squire and servant he's ever had, much better than I've been before his departure, don't you doubt that!”

Blondel stopped before an empty box and gazed at him. “Please, let me tell Nuri the news alone at first. You should eat yourself and maybe visit your sister before she withdraws for the night. Nuri and I will wait for you and Oscar to return later when the others have left.”

Erik nodded, sensing that Blondel must have a good reason if he wanted to talk to Nuri alone at first. “I will do that. I have to see to the king's rooms being ready for him, anyway.” He smiled at the minstrel and turned to leave him when Blondel's words made him stop again.

The older man's expression was sad, wistful and resigned at the same time, but also kind and tender, and Erik swallowed when he remembered how much Blondel loved the king himself, and how much it must hurt him that his love was not returned in the same way. Yet, the bard's voice was only soft and gentle, and his words left no doubt about his honesty and sincerity when he said:

“There has never been any mistaking about you serving my king Richard with all your heart and in the best way possible, Erik. He has never had any other human being seeing to his needs with the same care, love and devotion as you do, that's for sure. But please, don't call yourself his servant, because you're so much more to him. You're everything to him, and I know for sure that my king would never ever think of you being his servant in any way. His squire and his cherished young knave, yes, but not his servant, because your services come from your deep love for him, something no ordinary servant could ever do for him. He loves you, don't you ever doubt that.”

For one moment, they looked each other deep in their eyes, and Erik could see the truth of Blondel's words in the beautiful, amber-golden depths. “Yes, I know, Blondel, thank you,” he said, his voice hoarse and filled with gratitude that the other man didn't begrudge him Richard's love. Erik didn't know any other person except for his sister who would have done that for him, and it touched him, deeply, that Blondel was willing to accept that the man he loved desired and loved another one and yet called this man his friend.

“I'll see you later, then.” Blondel smiled briefly at him before he disappeared into the seemingly empty box, and Erik turned around and left the stables to make sure that everything would be perfect when his lionheart finally returned to him.

 

_Castle Frankenstein again. I know I have posted this castle ruins before, but I simply find the view so impressive and breathtaking, especially the windows. This photo shows perfectly what you can find in this beautiful landscape: green hills and mountains, trees and the still so impressive proofs of our ancestors' skills when it came to build things that would last for an eternity._

  



	27. July 1193: Back To The Castle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik and Oscar visit Blondel and Nuri in the stables, and the next day, Richard and his entourage finally leave the camp to go back to Castle Trifels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Arrested, I finally managed to write the next chapter, and it includes Erik's, Blondel's, Richard's and Marian's POV, I'm proud of myself. It is yet some kind of filler chapter again, but it is the last one before Richard's and Erik's reunion, the long wait eventually comes to an end!
> 
> Enjoy the new chapter and please let me know if you liked it. :-)

_In the evening on Castle Trifels:_

 

Dawn had settled over the many buildings of the proud imperial castle more than one hour ago, when Erik and Oscar finally made their way to the stables again, both of them deeply lost in their thoughts. Erik had hidden Richard's precious note under his shirt in a small bag that he carried with a cord around his neck, and the note hung just where his heart was, protected by the smooth leather of the bag. Erik could almost hear his beloved lionheart's wonderful voice saying the words he had written down for him in his mind, and Erik furtively wiped his eyes to not let see anyone his tears of longing and happiness. Only one or two more nights, and he would be able to hear Richard's voice for real again, Erik could hardly believe that his dream would come true so soon.

He and Oscar had grabbed something to eat in the kitchen before they had started off towards the large wooden stables, Emma, the head of the castle's cooks had provided them with enough bread, cheese and the leftovers of her delicious stew to feed a small company. She always tried to hide her softhearted nature with strictness, and she had scowled at Erik and Oscar at first, asking them why they hadn't eaten their dinner together with the rest of the residents of the castle and told them off for bothering her now of all times.  
But, when she had heard the good news about the hopefully soon return of the king and his entourage and learned that the food was for the equerry and the minstrel mostly, her face had lost all strictness, and she had prepared the meal for the four young men, personally.

Emma always knew what was going on in the castle, probably even better than Sir Walter himself, and it was no secret that Nuri hadn't left the earl's precious horse alone over the last five days, and that Blondel had helped him taking care of Thunder as best as he could and that he had hardly slept and eaten, as well. The Earl of Lindelborn was one of the few aristocrats the cook truly liked and admired, and making sure that the two young men who saw to his beloved Arab with such care and devotion would get something to eat and drink seemed to be a matter of heart to her.

Blondel awaited them in the corridor before the box, smiling at the two young men when he noticed the huge carafe filled with fresh beer and the tray overloaded with what Emma thought four men could eat all at once.

“Hm, you must have read my thoughts, I'm starving!” he said, taking the tray from the young servant to carry it to the empty box Nuri used as his sleeping place. “Nuri is with Thunder, he should join us in a few minutes.” The blond minstrel did his best to appear carefree and cheerful, but it didn't slip Erik's attention that his amber-golden eyes were clouded with worries and that he was restless and not as calm as he wanted to look like.

The young squire mused briefly about asking the older man about his worries, but decided against it, not because he didn't trust Oscar, but because he didn't want to push Richard's closest friend. Oscar pulling something out of his pocket and speaking up drew his attention back to his younger companion, and both, Erik and Blondel looked at him, curiously.

“The king gave me this with the advice to let Thunder sniff on it. It is a piece from the earl's tunic, and his majesty told me that it has always helps his own horse White Arrow when they are separated for some time. I carried it wrapped into fresh linen the Forest People provided me with, and it should still emanate the earl's scent.”

Blondel's smile lit up the rather dark stable as he took the cloth from Oscar. “Thank you, Oscar, I will bring it to Thunder and Nuri, please wait here for us. I should have known that my king Richard wouldn't forget about Thunder, he has always valued his faithful stallion as highly as he values his few real human friends, and he of course knows how much Thunder misses his master.”

Erik nodded his head and gently pushed Oscar into the box. “We will wait for you, Blondel,” he promised, sensing that Blondel didn't want them to be a witness when he joined Nuri and brought the proof that his owner was still alive and would come back to him to the black Arab. Oscar opened his mouth to protest but then, only nodded, as well, and together, they made themselves comfortable on the fragrant hay to wait for the other two men to finally join them.

 

***

 

“So everyone except for the earl is well and healthy?” Nuri asked half an hour later when he had sat down next to Blondel in the box, unconsciously leaning against the minstrel's slim but strong shoulder. Blondel resisted the urge to wrap his arm around him, not because he was ashamed of his feelings or feared that Erik or Oscar would take it the wrong way, but because he knew the handsome equerry well enough by now to sense that Nuri was very private about his feelings and didn't want to display them in public. He most likely wouldn't say anything against Blondel embracing him, but only because he was too exhausted to object, and not because he would have been comfortable with appearing as a couple.

Instead, he offered him the mug Erik had filled with beer and the bowl with the still warm stew Oscar handed him. “You must eat, Nuri, Thunder is much better and won't need you within the next hour,” he only said, smiling when the dark-haired half-brother of the Earl of Lindelborn scowled at him. “What? I will be the one having to face the cook's wrath if we won't eat all of this, not you. Erik, Oscar and I can't eat this huge amount of food all alone, so do me the favor and save me from Emma's anger. You know how scary she can be, don't you?”

Nuri rolled his eyes, but his features relaxed and he managed a brief, honest smile as he took the bowl and the spoon and started to slowly eat from the stew. Blondel kept his eyes on him until he was sure that the younger one had found back to his normally due to his hard work healthy appetite, before taking the other bowl from Erik and starting to eat himself. “Thank you, Erik, this smells wonderfully.”

“Emma made sure that the loud growling and gargling of your stomachs won't keep Thunder awake at night,” the beautiful young man chuckled, nibbling from his cheese and his bread. “Oscar, please tell Blondel and Nuri what you have told me, it is always better to hear such news from the one knowing best what's going on than from other people,” he asked the young servant, and Oscar cleared his throat and started to speak.

“His majesty, the young squire Marian of Lewenberc and the earl's men are all healthy and unharmed, only the earl himself became injured during the coward murder attempt of the Italian count, who was actually supposed to protect the king and his entourage on their way back to the Trifels. I don't know the reason why the Comte Gardiola tried to kill his majesty, but it happened in the forests during the thunderstorm.”

Oscar hesitated for one moment, obviously not sure how to continue, before he straightened his shoulders and went on with his story. “The Earl of Lindelborn was hit by a misled arrow when the Forest People came to their help, and the count's sword injured the same shoulder when he protected his majesty from the Italian's attack. The wounds themselves weren't life-threatening, but the earl has lost a lot of blood and the sword-wound is rather deep. Brother Hilarius, the monk who sees to him, is positive that he will make a complete recovery, but it will take some time, and he is not in the state that he could only think of riding a horse. They will have to transport him in a cart and hopefully be back the day after tomorrow at the latest.”

Oscar took a sip from his beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Nuri had listened to his explanation, silently and with his gaze lowered down on his bowl, and Blondel had noticed that he had stopped eating a while ago. “The earl is strong,” he said, “I'm sure that he will heal.” Nuri didn't look up, but he let out a sigh and nodded his head.

Erik regarded him, obviously not sure what to make out of the equerry's strange behavior. “We all hope so. Robert of Lindelborn is a warrior, and losing the mobility of his arm would be horrible for him.” His eyes traveled forth and back between the minstrel and the dark-haired equerry, who had glided closer to Blondel without realizing it. “My lord won't be able to ride Thunder for some time, but the most important thing will be that he can visit him, you don't have to worry that much about his Arab. Did the cloth from his shirt help to calm him down?”

Nuri swallowed and blinked as he nodded again, and Blondel balled his fists to keep himself from wrapping his arm around his desperate friend and rock him. “Yes, it helped Thunder. He has eaten after sniffing on the garment. The earl's scent must still have been strong and fresh, horses are intelligent beings, they don't let themselves be fooled, easily.”

“It was fresh, Brother Hilarius and his majesty had helped the earl into fresh clothes yesterday morning after washing him, and this piece of linen had had direct contact with his skin. The king had made sure that it wouldn't smell of blood and scare Thunder with that even more than he already is. It was the part of his sleeve that had covered the earl's right, uninjured wrist, right where his pulse is sensible.”

Now, it was Blondel's turn to swallow as his longing for his beloved king Richard almost crashed him. He believed Oscar that his dear friend was well and healthy at the moment, but he longed to see it for himself and he wanted to touch him and look into his eyes again. They had been apart for so long because of Richard's crusade, and Blondel knew that he wouldn't find his peace of mind again until his friend would be back.

Erik's face displayed the same longing, and for the first time, Blondel was glad that his attempt to let Richard be freed hadn't been successful. He had accepted the prolonging of the English ruler's captivity after learning about Erik's own state as Robert's hostage, but he had still been angry and sad that the earl had crossed his plans, and this hadn't really changed until this night. Now, he was deeply grateful and happy that his king would return to Erik and to him, even though he knew that he shouldn't be glad about it, at all. Their people in England suffered badly without their king, but it wasn't upon Blondel to change that any longer, and the only thing he could do was to stay by Richard's side and be the honest and faithful friend he needed him to be, not only for Richard's sake, but also for his own and Erik's.

The quiet sob escaping Nuri's lips finally made him stroke his arm, and when the equerry relaxed and accepted his comfort with a quick, grateful glance, he smiled at him and said: “You can trust Erik and Oscar, Nuri. They won't tell anyone about your secret, even not Robert himself, I promise you. You shouldn't carry this burden all alone any longer, and they might be able to help you after the earl's return.”

Nuri hesitated but then, he lifted his head up to look at the two young men sitting opposite Blondel and him, and his voice might be hoarse with his suppressed emotions, but it was also firm and didn't waver when he said: “Robert, the Earl of Lindelborn, is my older brother. His father, the former Earl of Lindelborn was my father, too.”

 

***

 

_The next morning, in the camp of the Forest People:_

 

The air was fresh and still rather cool on this beautiful early summer morning, and Richard the Lionheart inhaled it with closed eyes when he stepped over the threshold of his shack, savoring the few peaceful minutes he had left for himself before they would leave the camp and travel back to Annweiler and Castle Trifels.

Matthias, the leader of their hosts had promised them that the cart would be ready this morning, and when Richard opened his eyes again, a smile lit up his features, because the young and yet so wise and foresighted former aristocrat had kept his promise. The cart stood only a few meters away from Richard's shack, and the tall brunet was already busied with preparing it for their journey.

Richard made his way along the small path that winded itself through the camp, and Matthias turned his head and offered a brief bow as a greeting. The English sovereign nodded his head and circled the cart to inspect it. “Good morning, your majesty, I hope you've slept well,” the younger man said, and Richard smiled at him. “Much better than I've slept in the rather cozy bed in Worms,” he stated, ironically. “Your camp is a source of peace and calmness.”

Matthias snorted. “Visit us when the cold winter winds are blowing through the windows and the slits and cracks, and you will change your mind very quickly, your majesty.”

Richard barked a laugh. “I'm sure that you have found a place where you can stay during the long and cold months, Matthias. It would surprise me if you hadn't. You have grown up in a castle yourself, don't tell me that you didn't freeze between its cold, stony walls during the cold months.”

The young leader pursed his lips while he focused on covering the lying surface of the cart with several furs. “The castle I grew up in is surely not comparable to you palace in London or the castles of your French territories. Castle Trifels is an imperial castle, they must have fireplaces in each chamber for the court members.”

“I highly doubt that. Besides, having a fire burning directly beside your bed can be as unpleasant as the winter-cold actually is. It can also become pretty dangerous, a lot of people have died because of a fire in their sleeping chambers that has gotten out of control, either because the fire burnt them, or because they have choked on the smoke.” Richard folded his arms before his chest and leaned against the cart.

Matthias paused in his doing, looking thoughtfully at him. “Yes, you're right with that. I've always preferred the cold before the thick smoke, and you're right, we know how to protect us from the worst during the winter. The forests provide us with everything we need, and we get the rest from the villagers.”

“Your support and help for their supplies, it's a fair bargain for both sides, I guess.” Richard let the fingers of his left hand glide over the smooth and thick furs. “This is high quality,” he remarked, and Matthias chuckled. “You don't want to know where these come from, your majesty, believe me. But, the earl's shoulder won't take it well if he has to lie on hard ground for too long. The journey will strain him enough, anyway, no need to cause him further pain. The ground we have to travel on is rather soft as long as we're still in the forest, but the road leading to Annweiler and the castle is much harder, and we must see to absorbing the jolts during our trip as best as we can.”

Richard felt touched by Matthias' care. “Thank you, Matthias, that's considerate of you.”

The young leader shook his head. “It's the least we can do after having shot him. Would you please join the eagle for breakfast? He is awake and has asked where you are. He seemed to be anxious, I think that the prospect of having to lie in the cart is bothering him more than we had thought. He will surely feel better with your assurance that his dignity is not in danger because of that. Marian did his best, but you as the older one, experienced warrior you are will most likely be able to dispel his worries much better than his squire.”

Richard smiled at him. “Thank you for telling me, I will do my best to divert him. Perhaps, I should tell him about my first journey on a ship, the image of me having spent the entire first day by bending over the railing might help him with regarding his own fate with less bitterness and more calmness. I will leave you to your devices, then,” he said, knowing when he was indispensable, because Matthias' mate Jonas had just come into sight. Matthias' silent chuckle followed him when he turned around and walked over to the shack where Robert of Lindelborn had found a safe place to recover from the worst, and the tingling of anticipation in his belly made him feel young and giddy.

Tomorrow at the latest, he would see his sweet young knave again, and Richard could hardly wait for this to finally happen.

 

***

 

Marian had prayed for a miracle to happy, maybe another thunderstorm that kept them from leaving the camp of the friendly Forest People, because his beloved earl had been pale around his nose and tossed and turned on his straw mat ever since he had woken up from his deep slumber that had been caused by Brother Hilarius' herbal beverage. He had done his best to keep the dark-haired warrior still, always fearing that the wound would break open again, and he hadn't expected the sharp sting of jealousy shooting through his stomach when the English sovereign had accomplished what he had tried fruitlessly for more than one hour, namely calming Robert down and bringing him to finally stop with his tossing.

Both of them had listened to the king's vivid and self-ironical narration of his first journey with a ship with a dropped jaw, while the kind monk with the soft and skilled hands had changed the bandage around Robert's arm, quietly snickering to himself now and then by the images the English monarch had painted with his story that colorfully.

Marian really couldn't imagine the impressive and always controlled monarch bending over a ship's railing to puke his guts out like every other ordinary man would have done it, and his short bout of jealousy had faded again and made room for gratitude and admiration for the king because of his willingness to make a fool of himself.

Richard the Lionheart truly cared about his beloved Robert, that was clear to see, and that he was willing to share such an intimate story of his life with his young head-guard to save his dignity and console him at least a little bit touched Marian, deeply. The English ruler actually had no reason to care about the man whose duty was to keep him imprisoned and away from his own people, and who had gauged him with the captivity of the young man Richard loved with all the heart. Yet, the monarch didn't bear a grudge against the earl, but called him by the honorable nickname 'eagle', and he had stayed by his side except for a few hours when he had needed to catch some sleep without caring about his own comfort.

They had left the camp more than two hours ago and finally reached the dusty road that led to the small village and the monastery Eußerthal, and Richard rode on the right side of the cart while Marian did the same on its left side. Brother Hilarius had crouched down beside the wounded earl, and he kept wiping his forehead with a wet cloth and helped him when Robert was thirsty without complaining about the discomfort he must feel because of the narrowness. Matthias had seen to applying some kind of canopy to the cart to protect the earl and Brother Hilarius from the now burning sunlight and the dust of the road, and Marian actually thought that Robert had gotten the better part of them.

Not that he would tell him that, because he knew that Robert would take turns with him, immediately, preferring to ride on a hoarse and swallow the dust the hooves were blowing up. The wistful glances he shot at White Arrow and Marian's own mount were hard to miss, and Robert had been grumpy ever since they had lowered him down onto the furs in the cart.

“Your grumpiness might be a good sign that your recovery is making progress, eagle,” the English ruler now stated, dryly, bending a little bit to the side to look at his life-savior. Robert mumbled something unintelligible, but the king's gentle mockery had the desired effect, because the earl's cheeks colored in the faintest shade of red, due to his embarrassment.

“I hate lying here, useless and helpless like a newborn!” he admitted, and Marian bent over the cart to briefly stroke his uninjured arm, too. “You are not helpless and surely not useless, my lord Robert. You have saved his majesty's life even though you had been shot by an arrow beforehand, and no one is doubting your skills or your courage. You promised me to lie still and let us see to your safe return, so please stop pouting and take a nap instead. You still need to rest a lot because of your blood loss.”

Robert opened his mouth to protest, but in the same moment, the cart jolted over a large root, and the dark-haired earl pulled a face because of the pain shooting through his left shoulder. “Ouch, I guess you're right, Marian. How much longer will we need until we'll reach Eußerthal?” he asked, smiling gratefully at Brother Hilarius, who wiped the sweat from his forehead with a gentle gesture.

“Not so long. We will stop there to refill our water hoses, and if we can keep up this pace, you will sleep in your own bed on Castle Trifels tonight,” the kind monk assured him, and Robert closed his eyes with a heartfelt sigh. “Thank you, I have to admit that I would be grateful for a bed that doesn't sway from one side of the other. It's making me dizzy,” he whispered, and it didn't take long until his breathing slowed down, proving to his companions that sleep had claimed him again.

Brother Hilarius craned his neck to gaze at Marian from underneath the hand he shadowed his eyes with. “The eagle's grumpiness is indeed a good sign. We should be grateful that he has enough strength left for being grumpy.”

This pulled a snicker from the young squire and a much lower chuckle from Richard Plantagenet. “Well spoken, Brother Hilarius. Let us hope that he will stay grumpy then for the rest of our journey. I need to talk to Matthias, but I know the eagle in the best hands possible with you.” He pressed his heels into his Arab's flanks, and Marian watched the English sovereign trotting forward until he had reached the head of their small caravan. Richard might be the emperor's hostage, but none of their impedimenta only thought of flanking him with guards, neither Lars and Sven, nor Matthias and his men. The mere thought of the king suddenly trying to escape and leave Robert and Erik to their fates was nothing else but simply ridiculous, and Marian was glad that the monarch had also finally gotten back his sword. He was a great and brave fighter, and he deserved to be trusted and respected more than any other man Marian knew, except for his beloved Robert, of course.

The young squire blew a strand of his soft brown hair out of his face and held his head up high as he rode beside the cart that carried the love of his life, pushing his worries and heavy thoughts aside. The day was beautiful, the birds were singing in the sky, and the sun was bathing everything in its warm, golden light.

Tonight, they would be back home again, and Marian smiled by the thought of seeing his friend Erik again. Soon, they would be together again and could talk to each other, and this together with Robert's recovery was all that mattered to him at the moment.

 

***

 

They had reached Annweiler in the late afternoon, and Richard was still amazed how fast they had been. The days were long in July, and if their luck didn't run out, they would most likely reach the castle before the darkness of the early night would make it hard for them to travel. The villagers of Annweiler had gathered around them when they had stopped for a short break in the middle of the market place, and the English sovereign was sure that there were already some messengers on their way to announce their imminent arrival, but no one had tried to approach them.

Richard couldn't blame the residents of the small city that they wanted to take a look at him, so they could tell their friends and families that they had seen a true monarch and the emperor's so important hostage with their own eyes, he would most likely do the same if he was in their place.

“Are you sure that you want to accompany us the entire way to the castle, Matthias?” he now asked the tall leader of the Forest People riding beside him. Matthias pursed his lips. “It won't be safe enough for you if we don't, your majesty. Besides, I won't leave Brother Hilarius alone. I trust the eagle's men and you, that's not the point, sire. But they will have to protect you and the earl in case you'll get attacked, and Brother Hilarius can't defend himself. He has sworn to never use a knife for anything else than just heal someone with it.”

Richard nodded slowly. “I see. I appreciate your company, Matthias. But, I can't guarantee what Sir Walter will do, it will be better that you'll stay behind before we'll reach the castle. I'm sure that you will find a safe and secret place where you can spend the night unnoticed.”

Matthias shrugged his shoulders. “We'll see, your majesty. My only concern is to bring you back to Castle Trifels in one piece and unharmed, so let us hurry to get there before it will be completely dark.”

Richard couldn't say anything against this and so he only spurred his stallion into motion again, followed by Matthias and Jonas. The defiant young man had decided to come with them this time, while Auba had agreed to protect the camp during their absence, and the shorter brunet had held himself back the entire day and hadn't snapped at Richard so far. He even shot the king a grateful look because of his obvious concern that the Forest People could become Sir Walter's prisoners, something that wasn't that unlikely. He didn't even know whether or not the castellan had already sent out his men, and it could easily happen that they ran into them before reaching the castle and before Matthias could search for a hidden clearing where they could stay for the night. The English sovereign would of course do his very best to keep Sir Walter from taking the Forest People as his hostages, but he didn't know him well enough to foresee his actions.

At least, these thoughts weighing heavily on him kept him distracted from his longing for one special young man, and Richard was surprised when the path became steeper and stepper and he realized that they couldn't be further away from Castle Trifels than maybe one mile. His heart started to beat faster, and he had to smile about his own impatience. He didn't know when he had begun to consider the imperial castle as some kind of home, because the stony walls and proud buildings were actually nothing more than only a very luxury prison, but Erik made him feel at home whenever he was near him, and this might be the reason for his feelings.

The king so many people called the Lionheart knew that England should be his real and most of all his only home, but his beloved mother Eleonore had taught him that home was always where one's heart was, and his heart belonged to his sweet young knave. Only one more hour, and he could hold this wonderful and precious being that had captured his heart in his arms again.

Heinrich held the key to his prison, the one with the thick, gray walls, but Erik held the key to his heart, and Richard would overcome each wall and each obstacle, no matter how big and insurmountable they seemed to be, just to see his beloved Erik again.

Richard let himself fall back until he rode beside the cart, and when Robert turned his head to look at him, he smiled. “We will reach our home within the next hour, Robert.”

The earl, who was obviously in great pain because of the long and exhausting hours in the cart, lifted his uninjured arm, and Richard took his cold hand and squeezed his trembling fingers. “It won't take long and you can lie down in your own comfortable bed with Marian beside you, Robert,” he said, gently, and the young warrior tried a pained smile.

“Home. What a sweet word,” he whispered, hoarsely, while his gaze traveled to his young squire. Marian looked thin and pale himself, his worries about the man he loved visible in the lines around his tired eyes. Richard felt a lump in his throat when he saw the deep love in the eyes of both men as they now looked at each other, touched that they let him be a witness of this short moment of intimacy.

“Yes, my dear eagle, home is a wonderful and very sweet word and a much sweeter place,” he agreed, his own eyes wandering longingly to the silhouette of Castle Trifles sitting enthroned on top of the mountain they were climbing right in front of them.

Only one more hour, and he would finally be home again, in the arms of his beloved Erik.

 

_The Dahner Castles again, the view from Castle Thanstein to its neighbor castles:_

  



	28. July 1193: The Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard the Lionheart and his entourage finally return to Castle Trifels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Arrested, I'm sorry it took me so long to update this story, this chapter was surprisingly hard to write and it took me ages. I'm not really satisfied with the outcome, I hope that you will like it, nonetheless. It has taken a long time, but Erik and his beloved Lionheart are finally reunited.
> 
> My dear readers, my older son was so kind to draw king Richard riding on his beloved stallion White Arrow for me, and I am stunned once more, because I could never do that, my drawing skills are pretty poor to put it nicely. The drawing is better than what I could ever have hoped for, and this picture comes very close to how I've always imagined Richard to look like. He has another unfinished drawing of him and I hope that he will finish it so I can post that, as well. :-)
> 
> On a personal side note: the last chapters of this story have gotten hardly any kudo and only comments from my most faithful supporters, the last one even none kudo, at all, and I have become pretty unsure about this story and my writing in general because of that. It's the same with almost all of my other works, and I'm asking myself whether my stories and my writing are not worthy to get feedback and visible encouragment and support any longer, or if it's just me myself not being worthy of getting it anymore. So if you're still interested in my fics and still like them, please let me know, your feedback and support would really mean a lot to me and help me with keeping on writing for you. <33

“The king is on his way back to the castle! The king will return to Castle Trifels within the next hour!”

The excited announcement shouted from the top of the watchtower echoed between the stony walls of the proud imperial castle, spreading out into each chamber and hall, and it didn't take long until it reached the small office next to the library where Erik was sitting before Sir Walter's desk.

Oscar was the one storming into the gloomy room without bothering to wait for an answer after a hasty knock on the door, a sudden gust of wind entering the room with him due to his fast pace and his forceful pull at the door handle. The cool breeze caused the parchments Sir Walter had spread out very carefully on his desk only minutes ago to lift themselves up from the wooden surface in a happy dance of anticipation, before they gently wafted down again, arranging themselves in a totally new order as they did so.

Sir Walter gazed at the misbehaving parchments with a bemused and somewhat resigned expression on his wrinkled features before raising his pale blue eyes to the one responsible for the new arrangement of his documents. “I hope that you're bringing us good news, lad!” he scolded the young servant with the unruly brown hair, “because I might be inclined to give you enough time for considering your woeful demeanor by dusting the library if you don't.”

Oscar blushed but lifted his chin up. “I have indeed very good news to tell, Sir Walter. King Richard and the Earl of Lindelborn will reach the castle within the next hour.”

Erik, who had just turned his head at their unexpected visitor, could only gape at the equally unexpected sight of the castellan jumping to his feet the same second he had heard Oscar's words, and this even much faster than he himself managed to do although Sir Walter was almost three times older than Erik. The older man pulled a face and reached for the backrest of his chair as his age made itself noticeable after this impetuous physical exercise, and he quickly circled the table to offer his help in case it would be needed, but Sir Walter only waved him away.

“No, no, Erik, you have better things to do than seeing to an old fool like me at the moment.” He smiled at Oscar, who had stepped forward to offer his help, as well. “Your deed is excused, lad, you couldn't have brought better news, that's for sure. Now hurry to prepare everything for their arrival, both of you, lads. The king might be unharmed, but he will be tired after the surely very straining and exhausting last couple of days, and the Earl of Lindelborn will be in dire need of care and medical treatment. Oscar, you will see to the earl's rooms being prepared with heated water, fresh linen and broth. Erik, I want you to go to the gate and see to everything being ready for their arrival. And wait there for the king's return. I am sure that your sight will revive his spirits. I'll follow you within an instant.”

Erik bowed before the wise and kind castellan. “Of course, Sir Walter, everything will be ready for them.” He waved at Oscar, and both left the small office without wasting any more time, the young servant almost running in the direction of the kitchen while Erik made his way to the wide front yard before the largest gate of the castle. The place was already buzzing with activity, servants and maids rushing to the left and the right while shouting some orders at their fellows, the guards checking their weapons and armors while taking up position at both sides of the wooden entrance.

“How long will it take until they will be here?” Erik asked as he approached Jakub, whose normally calm and controlled face showed a similarly excited expression as his own probably did. The guard with the dark-blond hair pulled at his hauberk. “Half an hour, I guess, maybe a little more. The path is steep as you know, and they have to be careful because of the cart transporting Lord Robert.”

“Still half an hour?” Erik sighed, and Jakub chuckled. “Time will go by faster than you'll know, Erik!” he soothed the upset young squire, shaking his head with amusement when Erik started to pace up and down before the gate like a wild animal trapped in a cage, gazing around with an almost haunted expression in his beautiful eyes.

“Why don't you check the guards, Sir Erik?” he suggested without bothering to hide his grin and the friendly mockery in his voice. It was obvious that Erik's fuss distracted him from his own nervousness, and his posture was much more relaxed than it had been only two minutes ago.

“I'm sure that you have already done that!” Erik said, his attempt to scowl at the head-guard failing miserably. Jakub shrugged his shoulders. “It won't do any harm to do that again, Sir Erik.” He stepped forward and pulled at Erik's tunic, smoothing it out and brushing away some invisible grains of dust. The young squire blushed and looked down at himself to observe his own appearance, re-arranging his brown leather belt and his trousers until he was satisfied with his looks. The small bag with Richard's hand-written note was hidden underneath his shirt, Erik had found himself incapable of making it through the day without feeling the light weight of the leather bag poking against his chest whenever he walked and moved. He brushed with his hands over his hair and gazed at the dark-blond guard for approval. Jakub nodded with the appropriate seriousness.

“You look good, Sir Erik, you won't put your king to shame with your appearance,” he said with a brief bow, and Erik mistrustfully narrowed his eyes at him. Had there not just been a strange undertone in Jakub's voice when he had said 'your' king? He regarded the older man more closely, but Jakub's face was totally impassive and gave nothing away.

Erik was about to answer to that when he froze in place. “I have to look for Blondel!” he stammered in utter dismay, his bad conscience that he had forgotten to inform the one other man here on the castle craving for Richard's return as badly as he did.

“There is no need for that, my squire, this friendly guard has already seen to that after sending Oscar to Sir Walter's office!” Blondel's voice came from behind the very next second, and Erik almost lost his balance because of his sudden turn around. “Blondel, there you are!” he cried out without caring about who listened to them. “I'm sorry, I should have been the one telling you...”  
His voice trailed off and he smiled gratefully at the bard when Blondel took his by his shoulders to prevent his downfall.

“No, you shouldn't have, Erik. I am sure that Sir Walter has sent you here to make sure that everything will be ready for their arrival, and this is much more important than anything else. Jakub was so foresighted and kind to send a messenger to the stables and inform me about my king Richard's imminent return.”

“Thank you, Jakub,” Erik mumbled, and Jakub bowed again. “You're welcome, Sir Erik. Blondel is the English sovereign's close friend, of course he had to be informed about his majesty's arrival.”

Erik swallowed and lowered his voice. “Where is Nuri?” he asked, making sure that only Blondel could hear him. The minstrel with the handsome features sighed. “He's still with Thunder. He can't leave him alone, Thunder must have sensed that something is about to happen, he is nervous and upset and in danger of injuring his hoof again.”

For one moment, Erik completely forgot his excitement about seeing his beloved king any time soon again, Nuri's sad story he had told them only one day ago still vivid in his mind. Oscar and Erik had been deeply touched by the equerry's trust, and Nuri's story had broken both of their hearts. They had tried to console the younger son of the former Earl of Lindelborn with warm words and a hug before they had left the stables to go to sleep, and Erik had lain awake for a rather long time, thinking about Nuri's story and his tragic fate. They had promised Nuri to keep his secret at all costs, even though he shared Blondel's opinion that his Lord Robert would welcome his younger half-brother with opened arms and happiness. But, their arrival wasn't the right moment to reveal Nuri's true identity, even more because the earl would most likely be too sick and exhausted after their long and straining journey to listen to such an earth-shaking story and digest the revelation that he had a younger brother. “I will help you seeing to Nuri being able to visit the earl as soon as possible, Blondel,” he now said, “I am sure that my Lord Robert hearing good news about his beloved stallion will do him a world of good.”

It would do Nuri a world of good to see his brother and talk to him, but this wasn't something Erik could say out loud. Blondel smiled at him, knowing the true meaning behind the younger one's words, anyway. “I do believe that you're right with that,” he agreed, “Nuri and Thunder will surely appreciate that. I'd like to volunteer for staying with Thunder during Nuri's visit.”

“I thought that you would say that, Blondel, thank you.” Erik rolled his shoulders to ease the unbearable tension that had captured his body. The guards had all finally found their place during his talk with the minstrel and the servants and maids had stopped their running and shouting, waiting in appropriate distance opposite the gate for the awaited arrival of Heinrich VI.'s royal hostage and his entourage. Silence settled over the court yard, the silence of anticipation and relief that always came shortly before the arrival of such important visitors or guests. Only that the English monarch and the Earl of Lindelborn weren't just visitors or guests, at all, but the ones giving the residents living here a reason to stand up each and every morning and give their very best for them, never faltering in their tries to make the imperial castle feel like a true home for them.

The arrival of these two impressive warriors and their fellows came sooner than expected and feared, the loud shout from the top of the watchtower releasing Erik from his misery.

“Open the gate for King Richard the Lionheart and the Earl of Lindelborn!”

The young squire realized that he had heard the approach of the impedimenta for quite some time, the clopping from several hooves on the path leading to the castle and the voices of the riders, he had only been too nervous and confused to divide the sounds from the noises the guards and servants inside the castle were making. Erik blinked and pulled himself together, wiping his sweaty hands on his trousers to dry them and taking several deep breaths in the futile attempt to calm his racing heartbeat down.

Jakub turned around together with Lukasz standing at his left side, removing the thick and heavy transom from the two halves of the large wooden gate. Erik and Blondel were the only ones still standing in the middle of the court yard when the two halves swung open, and his breath hitched in his throat when he caught a first glimpse of his beloved lionheart.

The English sovereign was the first to enter the castle after the horrible long time of absence, riding on top of the impedimenta, his posture as proud and unwavering as Erik remembered him.

The young squire swallowed hard and lowered his head down in a deep bow of devotion and gratitude as he sank down to his knees before King Richard, his heart singing with joy and his eyes filling with tears of love and emotion he couldn't fight in this so very special moment.

His beloved lionheart had finally come back to him.

 

***

 

Richard couldn't really tell what he felt as he rode into the court yard of Castle Trifels on White Arrow's back, and he also didn't know what he had imagined his return to be like, at all. His only striving had been seeing his sweet young knave again, breathing in his wonderful scent and holding him in his arms after their long separation, and the English ruler had refused to think of anything else than that.

But one thing he knew for sure, namely that he definitely had not expected to find each and every single resident of the castle who didn't have to see to their duties awaiting him in the front yard, bending their knees and heads before him like they would normally only do for the emperor himself. There were at least hundred men, women and children gathered in the large front yard, bestowing honor and showing their respect for him - and his beloved Erik was kneeling in front of the others in the deepest bow of all of them.

Richard the Lionheart stopped his Arab, taking in the sight of devotion, respect and faithfulness with a huge lump in his throat and a feeling of stunned emotion. He was nothing more than the ruler of another country, a prisoner even, the hostage of the emperor the loyalty of these wonderful people actually belonged to. Yet, they showed him the same respect and faithfulness they would have shown Heinrich VI., and this without being forced to do that only the slightest, but because of their own free will to do that.

None of them spoke, they all stayed where they were, kneeling and with their heads lowered down to the ground, but Richard could literally feel their joy and happiness about his safe return echoing in his own heart, and only the jolting of the cart that had had to stop because of him pulled him out of his dazed state of grateful amazement.

He gently pulled at the reins and White Arrow strode forward just to stop before the two kneeling men in the middle of the yard again, his beloved Erik and his most faithful friend Blondel, who knelt right behind Erik, acknowledging Richard's deep love for the younger one with that. Blondel had knelt before him after their first acquaintance only rare times, and that he did it now, his head almost touching the dusty ground as he did so, told Richard more than words could have done. His heart ached for his friend, but Erik had to come first, needing his reassurance even more than Blondel already did, and he knew that his dear friend knew and respected that, as well.

White Arrow snorted and gently nudged the son of the Baron of Thanstein with his nose as if he wanted Erik to stand up again. The young squire shivered slightly but stayed on his knees, and Richard dismounted his stallion and took Erik by his shoulders, gently urging him to rise to his feet.

“Don't kneel before me, Erik, not you of all people,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion.

His young knave stood up with shaky legs, but he kept his eyes fixed on the ground, not daring to meet Richard's loving gaze. The older man could feel by the trembling under his fingers how much his sweet Erik struggled to keep his self-control and not start to cry, but he really needed to look into these beautiful hazel-green depths – now. Richard simply needed to see that nothing had changed between them and that Erik still loved him as much as he loved him. That he had longed for him in all those long, dark and lonely nights like he had longed for him.

“Look at me, Erik!” he almost pleaded, his voice hardly audible, and Erik of Thanstein swallowed again, closing his eyes to blink away the wetness before he finally, finally raised his chin and met his lionheart's tender and loving glance.

For one moment, they stood there, gazing at each other without saying anything, and every individual still kneeling on the ground of the court yard seemed to hold their breaths while the king and his squire renewed their bond, silently and with their eyes, only. Richard was vaguely aware of the others, but he didn't care about them, and when he saw the love and the happiness in Erik's wonderful eyes, the tension he had felt ever since he had realized how close he was to seeing his young lover again finally left his body.

“Your majesty. You're back. You really came back to me!” Erik croaked out, lifting one trembling hand up to stroke over Richard's cheek. When he became aware of what he was doing, he stilled in his movement, but Richard took it and gently squeezed his fingers. “Unharmed and well, young knave. And what did I tell you about you not calling me 'your majesty'?” There was so much he wanted to say, so much he needed to tell his beloved one, but it was neither the right time nor the right place to do that. Not with all those eyes watching them.

Instead, he smiled at Erik, and his smile held the promise of telling him what the young squire longed to hear so badly later on when they would be alone and undisturbed. Erik's answering smile was still pretty watery, but Richard was pleased when his sweet young knave lifted his chin up with defiance and even managed to glare at him. “You told me to not do it when we're _alone_ , your majesty,” he gave back, emphasizing the word 'alone'.

Richard suppressed his happy chuckle, admiring the two pink spots forming on Erik's cheeks he had wanted to provoke with his challenge. “My fault, how could I forget that? I'm getting old, I guess...” he drawled, and Erik opened his mouth in a sharp intake of air but then, only sighed and relaxed. “It's good to have you back, your majesty. We've all missed you.”

The unspoken 'I've missed you so badly' hung in the air between them, and Richard couldn't resist the urge any longer and briefly stroked over the warm and smooth skin over Erik's cheekbone. “I'm surprised myself, but I did miss Castle Trifels more than I would ever have thought, and I am glad to be finally back,” he admitted, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear his words.

Erik smiled at him, knowing that his lionheart had missed him the most, and he stepped back to let the king greet his dear friend.

Blondel was still kneeling even though the other residents of the castle eventually dared to rise to their feet again, and Richard stepped forward and pulled his minstrel up from the ground and right into his arms. It hadn't been possible for him to embrace Erik like he had craved to do so badly – like he still craved to do so badly – but he could embrace his closest friend without arousing any suspicions, everyone living here in the castle already knowing that the blond minstrel was the king's best friend.

“Stand up, my friend, there is no need for you to kneel before me, Blondel,” Richard said, gently, and his short but tight hug assured his younger friend that his deeds were forgiven and didn't stand between them any longer. Blondel pulled him close and sniffed, burying his face on Richard's shoulder for one moment. “I'm so sorry, my king Richard,” he whispered, his shame and self-hatred clear to hear in his husky apology.

“I know, my friend. Don't be sorry anymore. Everything is going to be fine again.” Richard pulled back and eyed his friend, critically, the lines around Blondel's eyes and his exhaustion not slipping the king's attention. “I thought that you had learned to take care of yourself in the meantime, my friend,” Richard remarked, and Blondel huffed a sound that was something between a sob, a snort and a chuckle. “I had, my king Richard, but circumstances forced me to help our equerry taking care of the earl's stallion instead. Thunder missed his owner more than we could have thought and was in permanent danger to injure himself more than he already was. Thanks to you, he calmed down enough last night to let us have at least some hours of undisturbed sleep.”

“I see.” Richard nodded his head and sighed as the mentioning of Thunder reminded him of the most pressuring matter again. Robert was still lying in the cart, and seeing to his needs came before anything else. He turned around to the cart and the sight of Robert's men waiting patiently beside the wooden vehicle together with Matthias and his men touched him as deeply as the sight of the castle's residents all kneeling before him had touched him. These men had defended him with their own lives, they had trusted him and gifted him with their loyalty and respect, and he owed them more than he would ever be able to give them back.

Especially one of them, the tough and astonishing Earl of Lindelborn, the brave and proud eagle, who had defeated the vulture and made sure that Richard would see his beloved Erik again. Marian was still sitting on the back of his mount beside the cart, waiting as patiently as the rest of their impedimenta, but Richard could see the deep worries in his eyes as their gazes met, and he nodded at him in reassurance. Robert needed to be brought to his rooms and get another medical treatment, but there was something else this tough warrior needed to get before that, and Richard was sure that what he was about to do would help the young earl much more than broth and herbal ointments.

The king looked around now and no matter whose eyes he met, all he could see in the faces of the men, women and children waiting to greet him was joy and relief about their safe return. Richard cleared his throat and the quiet murmur that had started to fill the court yard subsided again, the residents listening attentively to what their royal guest had to say to them.

“My dear residents of this proud castle, my dear friends, I am glad and grateful that we all have finally returned to you, all of us healthy and unharmed because of one brave man who didn't hesitate to risk his own life for the foreign king of another country, for someone he does not owe anything. This brave and loyal man became injured because of his selfless feat, and I ask all of you to welcome this man back here on Castle Trifels and show him that he is among friends. Friends, who will do everything they can do to help him recover, and who won't rest until his wounds have healed so he can ride his beloved Arab Thunder waiting for him again. Please, welcome one of the bravest man I have ever had the pleasure and honor to meet back on Castle Trifels, Robert, the Earl of Lindelborn!”

And Castle Trifels did welcome the young earl, the excited roar coming from more than hundred throats echoing between the buildings of the imperial castle that loud that it was still audible outside the walls; and everyone hearing it raised their heads and listened to it with a smile on their faces, sensing that a true miracle must have happened.

The king had eventually returned to the castle, safely and unharmed because of one brave man and now, with Richard back on Castle Trifels, everything was going to be fine again.

 

_The credit to this wonderful drawing goes to my teenage son, it shows King Richard the Lionheart as he returns to Castle Trifels and his young knave Erik. :-)_

  



	29. July 1193: Back At Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard has returned to Castle Trifels, now they have to see to bringing Robert to his rooms. Will Erik still be angry with his lord because of what Robert had done to him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dear Arrested, yes I know, I like to torture not only my boys but also my readers by keeping them in suspense. The next chapter will include Erik, Richard and a large bed, I promise, but I really didn't want Robert having to lie in the cart and musing about Erik still being angry with him for much longer...
> 
> My dear readers, this is probably only a filler chapter, but I didn't want Richard and Erik jump into bed right after Richard's return without them having taken care of Robert beforehand. Please let me know if you liked this chapter, nonetheless, your feedback would mean a lot to me. <33

The roaring of the crowd sounded like the surge of waves of the sea Robert was swimming in, a sea of hot pain, dizziness and whirling colors. The young earl craved to slip back into the smooth blackness of unconsciousness where no pain or dizziness would torture him, but there was something that kept him from closing his eyes and succumb to the promising darkness that wanted to swallow him again. He tried to remember what it was without being successful, because the horrible and long day in the jolting cart had cost him all of his strength. The minutes had stretched to hours and the hours to days, and only Brother Hilarius' gentle care and Marian's loving presence had kept him from screaming in pain and agony whenever the cart had jolted over another root or stone, the fire of his pain blazing in his weak and tormented body.

He needed to talk to someone, to ask them for their forgiveness, but his mind was clouded with dizziness and nausea, and Robert simply couldn't remember the reason for his most pressuring concern. He swallowed against the sickness rising in his throat and relaxed gratefully when the roaring noise finally subsided. He felt touched that the English monarch had praised him like this, but his entire body burned and screamed with pain, every single fiber of it, and his senses were strained and couldn't take any more input without causing him more discomfort.

“It won't take long until you will lie in your own bed, Lord Robert. They're already coming with the litter,” Brother Hilarius soothed him, gently wiping the cold sweat from his forehead. “I'll give you something against the pain and the nausea, you'll feel better when you're in your own chambers.”

Robert forced his eyes open, grateful that the sun was already going down and its light not as bright as it had been any longer. “Please, I need to talk to... I need...” he croaked out without knowing who he needed to talk to. The kind monk nodded. “I know, my brave lord, but this can wait until you're lying in your bed and have gotten some rest,” he objected, and Robert shook his head, ignoring the new wave of pain that shot through his left side by this short movement. “No, it needs to be now...” he gasped out as he tried to sit up. Brother Hilarius gently pressed him down again without having to use any force, and Robert groaned annoyed because of his weakness. “Please, Erik, I need...” he whispered, finally remembering the name of the man he had to make up with. As strange as it was, but the pain helped him with staying focused and awake, and he inhaled and exhaled slowly to fight against the dizziness that blurred his vision.

“I'm here, my Lord Robert, I'm right here!” his second squire's voice suddenly sounded at his right side, and the dark-haired earl turned his head. Erik bent over the cart and carefully took his cold and sweaty right hand in his two warm ones. King Richard appeared at Erik's side now, too, but Robert kept his eyes on the handsome features of his young charge, because he wouldn't find rest and peace until he hadn't begged for the young man's forgiveness for what he had done to him.

“I'm sorry, Erik, I'm so sorry!” he ground out, but Erik shook his head and very, very carefully and gently squeezed his fingers. “Don't be, my lord. There is nothing you'd have to be sorry for. I understand why you had to do it. You did the right thing and you saved my king, that's all that matters to me. Nothing is important except for your recovery from your injury, my brave lord.”

Robert relaxed thankfully, returning the squeezing as best as he could. “So you don't hate me, Erik? You will forgive me then?”

“There is nothing to forgive, Lord Robert, and everything is forgotten. I will forever be indebted to you for you having saved my king,” the young man said, and Robert realized with astonishment how much his second squire had matured in the weeks he had been away from Castle Trifels.

Erik of Thanstein wasn't a boy any longer, but a grown-up man, the expression in his eyes and his smile proving to the earl that the son of the Baron of Thanstein had turned into a true nobleman during their absence.

“Thank you, Erik,” he whispered, closing his eyes because he couldn't fight against the velvet-like blackness any longer. The last thing he heard was a softly murmured: “I have to thank you, Lord Robert, for everything!” before everything went dark for a very long time.

 

***

 

Marian breathed a relieved sigh when he saw his best friend Erik smiling at his beloved lord, he hadn't realized how worried he had been about his friend's reaction after their return until watching Erik smiling at the dark-haired earl with fondness and admiration. Robert had used his own squire as an extortion for the king's cooperation, and Marian could hardly imagine how Erik must have felt after learning that he was the earl's hostage and guarantee for Richard not trying to escape during their journey. He hadn't been sure if Robert's feat and his injury would change Erik's mind, but as he now saw how his friend looked at their lord with nothing but gratitude and devotion in his eyes, his worries faded, and he felt his knees buckle with relief.

Suddenly, he felt his own exhaustion pressing down on him and he blindly reached out for something to hold on to, just to be pulled in the tight and warm embrace of the taller squire, who had become his best friend over the past months. “Marian, you're back, safe and unharmed. I've missed you!” Erik murmured against the skin of his neck, and the shorter one closed his stinging eyes and let himself be held, grateful that their journey was finally over.

“Erik, oh God, Erik!” he stammered, “I didn't know... I only found out on our way...”

“I know, Marian, I know.” Erik gently pushed him away to look at him, his attentive eyes searching for any signs that his friend needed more than only a proper meal and some rest and comfort. When they didn't find anything suspicious except for his exhaustion and which some hours of rest and undisturbed sleep would help against, his friend contentedly nodded his head.

“We'll bring you to Lord Robert's chambers, my friend. Oscar has seen to everything being prepared for your arrival, you can sit down and eat while I'm helping this kind monk to take care of our lord.”

Marian swallowed, deeply touched by Erik's words. His friend had craved to be reunited with the man he loved so much for what must have felt like ages and yet, he was willing to wait for some more hours to help him taking care of their lord. The shorter brunet shot a quick look at the English sovereign standing beside the cart. “That's a generous offer, Erik, but I am sure that his majesty is as tired as we are, and seeing to his needs is your first responsibility.”

Richard the Lionheart barked a laugh. “That is considerate of you, young Marian, but you didn't really think that I would just disappear in my own rooms without seeing for myself that the eagle will get what he needs at first, did you? Erik and I will accompany you to Robert's quarters and help you settling him in there.”

Marian opened his mouth to protest, but when he realized that he was still leaning heavily against Erik's slim but strong frame, he closed it again. “Thank you, sire,” was all he could say, accepting Erik's arm around his shoulder for support as they stepped to the side to make room for two guards carrying the litter they would need to bring his beloved lord to his rooms.

He hadn't been aware that Sir Walter had joined them until the older man spoke up, welcoming Matthias and his fellows on the imperial castle. “I am Walter, the castellan of Castle Trifels. You must be Matthias, the leader of the kind people who offered his majesty and his entourage shelter and care?”

Matthias stepped forward to honor the castellan with a brief bow. “Yes, I am, Sir Walter. Brother Hilarius' protection was my concern on the way here, you're probably knowing him from the monastery of Eußerthal. He decided to stay with the Earl of Lindelborn as long as the lord would need his medical care, and I ask you to welcome him as your guest for the time being.”

Sir Walter regarded the young leader with a thoughtful expression. “It will be our honor and our pleasure to have the dear brother as our guest, Matthias,” he finally said. “Please, accept our hospitality for as long as you and your friends wish to stay here. We would be delighted to have you as our honored guests, as well.”

Marian suppressed a sigh when Jonas still sitting on his mount pulled a face. “Don't listen to him, Matthias. This is only his very transparent try to capture us and take us as his prisoners!” he objected, and the residents of the castle watching the spectacle in front of them raised their voices to an offended murmur. Richard looked amused and waited for the castellan's reaction, he had stepped beside Erik and Marian again, his tall body radiating warmth and comfort.

Sir Walter smiled at Matthias' mate, his face showing nothing than warm understanding. “I understand your fear, lad, but I would never dishonor your great deed and your willingness to help his majesty and our dear lord with such a behavior. You are free to leave Castle Trifels whenever it pleases you, no one will keep you here against your will. It is getting late and dark, and your day must have been a long and straining one, so we would be happy to offer you a proper dinner and a place where you can sleep safely tonight. You can stay on your own if you're feeling more comfortable this way, and no one will ask you nosy questions you don't want to answer.”

Jonas started a heated reply, but Matthias' gaze silenced him. “We'll accept your kind offer, Sir Walter, thank you. After eventually bringing the earl to his rooms, so Brother Hilarius can take care of him. Is it possible to bring another bed and some food to Lord Robert's rooms for him?”

Sir Walter gestured invitingly to the palas. “Both of what you requested is already waiting for the dear brother, Matthias. His majesty was so kind to inform us about Brother Hilarius' wish to stay with the Earl of Lindelborn as long as he will need him, and we prepared everything for both of them after learning about your imminent return to the castle.”

“Thank you!” Matthias waved at two of his companions with the names Gustav and Georg, and the broadly built men stepped to the cart and very carefully lifted the unconscious earl up to lower him down onto the litter. Marian's head was spinning by now, but he stumbled forward to take Robert's hand in his own, needing bodily contact with him as much as Robert most likely needed it despite his unconscious state. Erik walked next to him with his arm still wrapped around his shoulder, while the English monarch had taken the lead, his short coat softly blowing around his back in the rhythm of his firm steps.

Marian relaxed and let himself be guided into the castle, his fingers stroking absentmindedly the back of Robert's hand. They were finally at home again, and this was everything that really mattered to him.

 

***

 

They had brought the Earl of Lindelborn to his rooms, and Richard had insisted on Erik staying with Marian while the young squire sat down to eat something. The king longed impatiently for being alone with his sweet young knave and hold him in his arms and tell him how much he loved him, but he knew that neither of them would be able to enjoy their first time alone after the long separation if they didn't know for sure that Robert and Marian had everything they needed. Brother Hilarius needed to eat something and rest a little bit, as well, and Richard was relieved that his dear friend Blondel had volunteered to stay with the eagle while the monk saw to his own needs.

The blond minstrel had followed them to Robert's rooms in silence, and Richard felt the sharp sting of his bad conscience hitting him every time he looked at him. His eyes traveled to Erik, who was sitting at the table opposite his best friend, his attention focused on Marian, but when he felt Richard's gaze upon his face, he looked up and smiled at him.

“Please see to Marian eating somehting and taking some rest, Erik,” the king ordered him, “I'll have to talk to Sir Walter, and I want to see for myself that Matthias and his fellows have gotten what they need. I will stay with them for a while, it might help Jonas to relax. I'll see you in our rooms later.” Richard was grateful that he could talk openly to his beloved Erik here, they were among friends and he could let the mask of the strong ruler slip for one moment and be the tired man who longed for his lover for one moment. Sir Walter had even gone so far to not send guards with them to watch the emperor's royal hostage, which would have been ridiculous after Richard's willing return the the castle, anyway.

Erik nodded. “Of course, sire, please don't worry. This plate will be empty when Marian is finished. I will stay with him until Brother Hilarius comes back. Oscar has promised me to help him with taking care of my lord so Brother Hilarius can rest in between.”

Richard nodded in agreement. “Very well, that's good, Oscar will see to his duties thoroughly, I'm sure.” He turned to his friend, meeting his calm gaze. Blondel's amber-golden eyes were soft and full of joy about his king's safe return, but there was also wistfulness and sadness visible in the golden depths. The English monarch stepped closer, but he didn't touch his friend like he longed to do, fearing that his sweet young knave could mistake his gesture for something it wasn't.

“I am happy that you are back, my king Richard. I am sorry that I was so wrong,” his minstrel said, and Richard swallowed and clenched his fists. “You wanted the best for me and our people, Blondel, I know that.”

Blondel sighed. “The best for our people will be to not having to suffer because of another unnecessary war. They're suffering, yes, but they would suffer so much more if my plan had worked out and I had started another war between Heinrich and England because of that, sire.” Blondel didn't call him 'sire' oftentimes, and that he did it now told Richard a lot.

“You wanted me to be happy,” he stated in the attempt to offer some comfort. His friend smiled sadly. “But you are so much happier here in your luxury prison than you have ever been as a free man, aren't you, my king?”

Richard's smile was as melancholy as Blondel's. “Can a king ever be a free man, my friend? I don't think so because I'm a prisoner of my duties the entire time. But you are right, I am happy here, more than I would ever have thought that I could ever be.”

The blond bard nodded. “Then, I am happy, too, my king Richard.”

“Are you sure?” Richard regarded him closely and Blondel straightened his shoulders. “Yes, sire, I am. Knowing that you are happy and have found someone who truly loves you is all I ever wanted, don't you doubt that. Don't worry about me, please, I know where to go when I need some human company.”

“The handsome equerry with the dark curls, right?” The English sovereign was surprised about the short sting of jealousy that shot through him, but he suppressed it right away again. He didn't have any right to be jealous, not with him loving Erik the way he did. Blondel deserved someone who cared about him and gave him what he himself couldn't give him, and he should be happy for his friend instead of feeling jealous and begrudge him his own small portion of happiness and forgetting.

“He needs me.” Blondel cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. Richard realized that his face must have given away more than he had wanted to, and he pulled himself together again. “Just like you need him, I see.” Richard hesitated, his eyes wandering to his sweet young knave again. Erik had bent forward and was talking quietly to Marian, who pushed his food from one side of the plate to the other. Erik must know that he was still there, but he respected Richard's unspoken wish to talk privately to his friend before they would have time for each other and finally be alone.

“You have to go, sire. We will be fine, and your squire will await you in your rooms later,” his friend told him, and Richard smiled, because Blondel had always been the only one who had dared to give him orders except for his mother.

“You're right, my friend. I'll see you tomorrow. And please say thank you to Nuri from me – for everything he has done for Thunder and for you,” he said, turning around to leave Robert's chamber after one last glance back at his friend, the sight of Blondel standing beside the eagle's bed and watching him leave, his figure illuminated by the shine of the fire, staying with him for the rest of his life.

 

***

 

The leather bag with Richard's note brushed over the bare skin of Erik's chest as he leaned over the table to take the spoon and offer it to his friend. He had unconsciously listened to the quiet murmur of Blondel's and the king's voices without really paying attention to their words. He didn't want to spy on them, his only concern was that his best friend would eat his dinner. His lionheart was back and soon, they would have time for each other, but right now, Marian was the one needing him the most.

Marian eyed the spoon with obvious reluctance and disgust as he considered the possibility of refusing to use it. His friend had become thin and pale in the weeks of his absence from the castle, and Erik could easily imagine the reason for his poor state. It must have started even before the Italian count's attack, most likely in Worms or even at the beginning of their journey shortly after Marian had found out about his lover's deed. His former rosy and softly rounded cheeks were hollow and had lost their color, and Marian's fingers trembled slightly as he now took the spoon, looking at it as if he feared that it would turn into a sizzling snake the very next moment.

“I'm not really hungry,” he sighed, and Erik's heart ached for his friend. “I know, Marian. But you must eat, nonetheless. It's your favorite stew, Oscar has seen to Emma cooking especially for you.” Oscar had still been busied with preparing Robert's rooms for his arrival when they had entered the large chamber, he had even been so foresighted to see to a small table and four chairs being brought to the earl's bedroom. He had guessed right that the earl's personal squire and the monk nursing him would prefer to stay close to the earl during their meals instead of taking them in the living room belonging to Robert's quarters on Castle Trifels, and Erik had thanked him for his foresightedness.

He and Marian were sitting at said table at the moment, while Oscar had left together with Brother Hilarius to help the kind monk settling in. Erik knew that he could count on his servant and friend, Oscar might be young, but he was wiser and more mature than other boys in his age, and he had proved himself trustworthy more than only once.

Marian slowly pushed the spoon into the stew and took a small, cautious bite. “I was so scared, Erik,” he whispered. “I thought that I had lost him when he lay there, his blood pouring out of this horrible wound...” Erik swallowed and took his ice-cold fingers to rub them between his warm hands. “I know, Marian. The mere thought of something like this happening to my lionheart is more than I can bear. But, our lord is strong, he will survive and heal. He needs to know that we believe in him and therefore, you'll have to eat.”

Marian drew in a shaky breath and took another bite. “He was so worried that you wouldn't forgive him, Erik. He tossed and turned in his sleep and murmured apologizes, he hates himself for what he had to do. But he had to do that, the emperor forced him to do such a horrible thing to you!”

“Look at me, Marian,” Erik said, gently urging him to lift his head up and look him in the eyes. “There is nothing to forgive. At the beginning, I was shocked and didn't understand it, but that has changed. Not because he has saved my king's life, I had already started to understand him before the message of the attack reached us. I know that he had no other choice, and I don't bear a grudge against our lord Robert anymore. I'm not angry and I surely don't hate him. I will tell him that again when he has rested, but will you please tell him that nothing has changed between us later, when he's awake again? He is my lord and he will always stay my lord, no matter what will happen. Now, that he has saved Richard's life even more.”

Marian smiled at him. It was a teary but honest and true smile, and it lit up his tired and pale features. “Yes, I will do that, Erik, thank you. It will help him to heal, I know that.” He gazed down at his plate and the stew, taking the spoon again. “I should eat now, shouldn't I? I need to be strong for him.”

“Yes, you should eat, my friend. Not only for him, but for you and me, as well. You are my best friend and I care about you. I have missed you so, Marian.” Erik let go of his hand, but the shorter squire squeezed it one last time, beaming at him. “I've missed you, too, Erik. It's so good to be back at home again.”

“Yes, it is.” Erik leaned back in his chair and watched his friend eat his stew, the leather bag gently swinging forth and back under his shirt and caressing his skin. He didn't know when he had started to consider Castle Trifels his home, because when he had come here in March, it had been only an intimidating and rather scary place to him. But this had changed with the king's arrival, slowly but unstoppable and now, that his beloved lionheart had finally returned to him after the horrible long weeks, the proud, imperial castle felt like a true home for him, as well.

As impossible as it had seemed to be at first, but Castle Trifels had actually become the home Erik had unconsciously always longed for ever since he had had to leave Castle Thanstein, but never found until Richard the Lionheart had taken him in his arms and told him that he loved him for the very first time in his life.

 

_Castle Spangenberg, where Conrad of Spangenberg from the tournament came from:_

  



	30. July 1193: A King In Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik and Richard are finally alone with each other, alone in Richard's quarters. Will Erik give himself to his beloved lionheart in this night?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Arrested, as promised, this chapter contains Erik, Richard and a bed, only. Okay, there are a fireplace, a chair, a mirror and a wash cloth starring in minor roles, but I think that this will be okay, it would have felt weird to just let them jump into bed. There is also a little bit of philosophic musing in this chapter, and I decided to go with another title than just calling this 'Erik's first time' or so, because this chapter is about much more than only a first time. 
> 
> I should probably apologize that it took me 30 chapters and almost 124.000 words to get there and put them to bed, but I hope it was worth the wait, and this chapter is surely one of the longest so far with more than 6500 words.
> 
> Enjoy Erik's and Richard's special night, my dear readers and please, if you liked this chapter, leave some kudos or comments for my boys, it would mean a lot to them and me. <33

The large and splendid living room was silent when Richard the Lionheart closed the door behind him, locking the oftentimes so hostile and unfriendly world outside out. Lars and Sven had accompanied him to his luxurious dungeon – which actually felt more like a shelter sometimes - walking two or three steps behind him in perfect unison like only twins could do without having to practice this astonishing ability.

They hadn't done that to guard him and make sure that he wouldn't try to escape, but only to honor him. Richard might be the emperor's important hostage, but he was also a powerful ruler and a honorable, brave and impressive warrior of the Holy Church, and it wouldn't have been appropriate to let him march through the castle and to his quarters all by himself.

It had been clear to see how much this small service had meant to them although they were pale with exhaustion and looked as tired as Richard felt, and the English sovereign had accepted their company without objection. He would actually have preferred to have some minutes to himself before facing the one his heart had screamed for over the past weeks without prying eyes watching them, but he had gotten used to accept things he couldn't change a long time ago. Keeping up appearances belonged to his life as the unfree man he was as the King of England and him being Heinrich's hostage hadn't changed that, at all. Richard had always been a prisoner - right from the day he had been born on – because no son of a king could ever consider himself a truly free man. Not his imprisonment by Heinrich made him a trapped man, but his name Plantagenet was what had raised invisible walls around him he could never escape from, no matter how hard he would try to do so.

Richard guessed that Sir Walter knew that, the sharp eyes of the older man saw much more than the English monarch would have liked them to see, and the castellan of Castle Trifels had the wisdom and knowledge that came naturally with the experiences of a long life. Richard had sat together with him after seeing for himself that Matthias and his men were comfortable and had everything they needed, and he had talked with Sir Walter for almost one hour. The castellan and he understood each other without having to say too much, and the older man had assured him that he would stay undisturbed for as long as he wished to be, and that no one except for Blondel, Marian, Oscar or Sir Walter himself would have access to his rooms. Lars and Sven would take the watch of the hallway from Jakub and Lukasz after having caught some sleep, and Richard and Erik would have enough time for themselves and could stay alone as long as they wished to. The castellan had also promised him that he would inform him instantly in case that the eagle's state would change considerably in any way, either to the better or to the worse, and this was all Richard wanted to know for sure.

Everything else could wait until he had found some rest and gotten the chance to renew the bond with his sweet young knave.

Lars and Sven had wished him a good night and looked at him with nothing but respect, loyalty, affection and admiration, even though they must know what he wanted to do as soon as the door had closed behind him. Yet, they didn't judge him, neither for him desiring another man, nor for this other man being a young and innocent squire. They had probably felt and thought differently about that before their fateful journey, but things had changed ever since they had left Worms, and they must have noticed Erik's change and his growing up during their absence, as well. Erik wasn't the boy he had been before their departure any longer, and Richard desired this new mature and strong Erik even more than he had desired the old, much younger and more innocent one - if this was even possible.

He didn't really know what Erik's change meant for their relationship as he now crossed the room to join his squire before the fireplace, the orange shine of the flames the only illumination of the large chamber and bathing everything in a golden light. Richard steps faltered as he took in the sight of the young man he loved shimmering and glowing in the warm light of the fire like a wonderful sculpture, and the sight reminded him of the sight of his friend Blondel when the minstrel had stood beside Robert's bed and watched him leave. The similarity of both views was striking to say the least, and Richard realized with a sudden and strange clarity how interwoven their fates were.

Blondel and Erik were tied to him with invisible ropes, and these two men defined his destiny and his entire being like no other living being had ever done or would ever do. Blondel and Erik actually were his destiny, they had touched his soul right with his first look in their eyes, and their touch would always stay with him and bind them inseparably together.

Erik had stood motionless before the hearth and stared into the flames, but he now turned around and looked at him, his face calm and with this mature expression settled on his handsome features, but a small smile played around his beautiful mouth and his hazel-green eyes were filled with joy and love as he returned Richard's rapturous staring. They didn't speak, only looked at each other for a while, and Richard's heart started to race and to hammer in his chest.

He might be a king, an impressive and powerful ruler, having faced dangerous and life-threatening situations countless times without ever wavering or feeling fear, but in this special moment, he neither felt like a king, nor like a warrior, stripped and bereft of everything except for his longing to be loved, an emotion every human being felt on this earth, no matter whether they were rulers, simple people or even slaves.

As he now looked into the depths of Erik's wonderful eyes, he wasn't the king everyone called the Lionheart, but only the man Richard, a simple man deeply in love and nothing else.

 

***

 

Erik had heard Richard coming in, but somehow, he hadn't been able to turn around and face him right away, the realization that he was finally alone with the man he had craved for overwhelming and almost crushing him. He had stood before the fireplace like a statue, unable to move until he noticed the sudden stopping of the quiet footsteps before his beloved lionheart had reached him.

Then, his immobility finally fell off him and Erik could move again. He did, slowly turning around to look at the one who had filled his thoughts, his heart and his entire being ever since he had looked in his warm brown eyes for the first time: King Richard Plantagenet, called the Lionheart.

Only that it wasn't the powerful ruler looking back at him, but a simple man, tired and dusty from his long journey and the horrible things that had happened during it. The one who looked back at Erik wasn't the controlled and reserved monarch he was for everyone else, but only a human being that craved to be held and loved, and the young squire now opened his arms for this man and said: “My beloved Richard, you really came back to me! I have missed you so much!”

 

***

 

Erik's arms felt so perfect around him.

Richard couldn't remember how he had achieved to cross the remaining distance between Erik and the place where he had stopped, all he remembered was his young knave smiling at him and opening his arms for him, his sweet words making his heart sing that nothing had changed between them because of his long absence. Erik's strong arms held him close, and Richard couldn't stop dabbing heated and passionate kisses all over his face, breathing in his young knave's so missed and still so familiar and beloved scent, pressing the young man close to his with tiredness and desire aching body.

“I've missed you, my sweet Erik, I've missed you so, you don't know how much I've missed you. So badly, I've missed you so badly, my wonderful Erik. Love you, love you so much...” Was that really his voice? That needy and raw with his overwhelming emotion and want? Was it really him losing his iron self-control like that, confessing his feelings this way? Richard knew that he should have cared more about his reputation and his status, because he was a king after all, the ruler of a proud country and even prouder people.

But, he was a king in love, a king who loved, desired and felt like a simple man, and all he craved for was feeling Erik's loving and tender arms around him, holding him and telling him without words that his deep love was returned. “I've missed you, too, my lionheart, my Richard, I love you more than anything!” Erik's husky words proved to him that he wasn't the only one craving for this reunion, that the man he loved had longed for him just as much as he had longed for him, and the king relaxed gratefully, pulling him close and holding him tight.

Richard blindly searched for the sweet, pink lips, and he couldn't keep inside the ardent moan that fled his throat when Erik's soft mouth touched his own, his lips parting under the passionate onslaught of his king's bruising kiss. His beautiful squire opened his mouth for him, letting his tongue in with tender eagerness to surrender to him and let Richard claim anew what he had longed to reclaim for an eternity. The older man pushed his tongue deep into the soft cavern, licking and stroking every single spot within his reach, taking in his unique and wonderful taste like he had inhaled his scent only a few minutes ago. His beautiful knave surrendered to him with the sweetness only first loves held, and his long, elegant fingers carded gently through Richard's chin-long and now after their long ride rather tousled hair. He didn't try to take control of their kiss, only responded to it with all the love he felt, and when Richard finally had to draw back to give both of them time for breathing, Erik smiled at him and tenderly stroked his cheek.

“You must be tired, my beloved Richard. Please, let me serve you and help you getting more comfortable.” He offered him his hand and Richard took it to let himself be guided into their bedroom.

 

***

 

Erik had led his beloved lionheart to their bedroom, the room he had only entered to clean it and bring it back in order during the king's absence, because he hadn't been capable of sleeping in the large and cozy bed without Richard lying next to him. Instead, he had slept on his small cot each night, dreaming of the man he loved with every fiber of his being.

Tonight, he would sleep in the king's bed again, snuggled close to Richard, and tonight, he would gift the beloved man with his virginity and ask him to take it and make him his in every possible way. But at first, he needed to serve his lionheart, to do what every man did for the one they loved with joy and happiness: washing away the dirt and dust of the long journey, brushing his hair and undressing him with greatest care and love. The young squire had noticed the lines around Richard's with exhaustion and worries red eyes, and he had seen the slight trembling of his fingers when he had accepted Erik's hand.

The son of the Baron of Thanstein had guided his beloved king to their bedroom and gently pressed him down on the comfortable chair before the mirror at the wall opposite the bed, after undressing his coat and his royal tunic and shirt to carefully fold them and put them on the wooden chest where the king kept his clothes. Richard was now sipping from the light wine Erik had brought to their rooms when he had left Marian one hour ago, together with some fruits and a light meal. Richard didn't touch the cheese and the cold meat, but he nibbled at the fresh bread and had eaten some of the strawberries and cherries.

Erik stood behind Richard's chair, brushing his hair with firm but gentle strokes, and he smiled when he saw the expression of pure bliss on Richard's face reflected in the mirror. The English monarch had closed his eyes, and his features had relaxed and were surprisingly unguarded now, something that still amazed and touched Erik, deeply, because he knew that this was a very rare sign of trust the impressive ruler was willing to show only to very few people. That he was one of them was something he would never take for granted.

Erik put the brush to the side after one last stroke, smoothing Richard's thick brown hair with his hands before bending down and pressing a soft kiss on his temple. Richard opened his eyes and met his gaze in the mirror, and the young squire smiled tenderly at him. The English monarch wore only his white, linen undershirt with the long sleeves and his long, white underpants, but he hadn't lost the aura of nobleness and his charisma only the slightest. Quite the opposite, for Erik, he looked much more impressive stripped of his official clothes, the pure man and brave fighter Richard was because of his character becoming more visible after removing the covering layers of royalty.

“Please raise your arms for me, Richard,” Erik said, pulling at the hem of his shirt when the older man obeyed his gentle order without hesitation. He undressed it with greatest care, his fingertips caressing the fragrant skin of Richard's bare chest as he did so. He folded the linen with the same care he had folded the tunic and the shirt, laying it beside them and taking the cloth hanging over the bowl with the hot water he had put onto the dressing table before Richard had come to him. The water had cooled down just to the right temperature, and Erik wetted the soft garment to gently run it over the valleys and hills of Richard's chiseled torso. A quiet moan fled the king's lips, a small sound of pleasure and bliss that vibrated under Erik's skilled and tender fingers. The soft fur on the older man's chest tickled his palm, and Erik moved his left hand up and down to enjoy the tickling a little bit longer while he glided with the cloth over Richard's shoulders and back, washing away the dirt and the dust from the king's in the fiery glow shimmering smooth skin. When he was sure that Richard's torso was clean, he circled the chair to kneel down before the man he loved and wash his feet with the same care as he had washed his upper body.

The English sovereign looked down at him, watching his beloved squire serving him with love and tenderness, and he bent forward to kiss Erik's fragrant hair and whisper a tender “I love you!” against his temple.

Erik raised his head and smiled at him. “I love you, too, Richard. More than anything. I have waited for this night for so long, my lionheart, and I want you to take me tonight. Please, Richard, take my virginity and make me yours!”

 

***

 

Richard was sure that he hadn't seen anything more beautiful in his entire life than his beloved Erik lying spread out on the bed, aroused, naked and vulnerable, but his face suffused with the love and trust he felt for him. Erik's pale skin shone rosy and golden in the warm light of the few candles attached to the wall opposite their bed, and the king who was just a man deeply in love tonight let his fingers trail over Erik's lithe body with rapt devotion.

After Erik's hoarse confession, Richard had just stared at him in surprise for one moment before pulling him into his arms and up on his feet to kiss him with unrestrained passing and ardor. He had hoped that Erik would give himself to him one day, but he hadn't really believed that it would happn in this night right after his return. Yet, the expression in Erik's eyes told him that his young knave truly wanted him to take him, and Richard felt humble and blessed to get this most precious gift Erik had to offer. He had undressed him and gently lowered him down on the bed, taking the lead again, and the young man had let him do it with trust and gratitude.

“I will be gentle, I will not hurt you, love,” he said, his voice still hoarse with all his emotions. “But it can be a little uncomfortable at first.”

Erik smiled at him. “I trust you, Richard. I know that you won't hurt me. Please, I need to feel you, I need you to make love to me!”

“I need that, too, love.” Richard took the vial with the oil he normally used to keep his skin smooth from the dressing table and lay down beside Erik, brushing with his fingertips over his lips. “There are no words in this world to describe how much I love and want you, Erik.” He bent down and kissed him again, and Erik wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled him down to deepen the kiss. Richard played with his tongue and licked his way around until they were both moaning with the sensation then, he traveled with his lips downwards until he had reached Erik's vulnerable throat, licking with the tip of his tongue over the spot where Erik's pulse was racing. His hands roamed over the beautiful male body, learning once more where all the sensitive spots were that made Erik moan and writhe when caressed. Richard was pleased that he hadn't forgotten what pleasured his young knave the most, and he took advantage of his knowledge and started to turn him into a quivering mess with his caresses.

He was painfully aroused since their first passionate kiss, but the older, much more experienced man ignored the ache of his unfulfilled desire and focused on the amazing being underneath him instead. There was no way that he would just mount his young knave and use him for his own pleasure like so many 'noblemen' did with young men and women they considered less worthy than themselves, Richard was determined to make sure that Erik's only feelings when he took him would be pleasure and ecstasy. He would satisfy Erik, completely, and he would let his first time surrendering to another man be extraordinary and worth to become one of his sweetest memories for the rest of his life.

Erik arched his back when Richard took one of his hard nipples into his mouth to roll it between his lips and gently suck on it, his hands moving restlessly over the silky sheets of their cozy bed. “I want you, Richard, please, I need you!” he gasped out, and Richard laughed, pleased and hoarsely, lavishing attention on the other hard knob crowning Erik's well-toned chest, as well. “You will have me, don't you doubt that, my sweet young knave. You will feel my hard sword deep inside you, soon, I promise you.”

Erik shivered and moaned, trying to pull him up for another kiss. Richard had other plans, though, he glided down on the writhing body and nuzzled Erik's damp pubic hair, inhaling eagerly the scent of male arousal that emanated the soft, light-brown fur. The vial with the oil still in his hand, he opened it to coat his digits with it, and when he was sure that they were slick enough for their next task, he lifted his head and shot one quick glance at Erik's flushed face before enclosing the throbbing member bouncing so proudly in the air with his lips.

The beautiful being he loved so much rewarded him with a startled cry of pleasure, because this was something Richard hadn't done for him so far. Erik had performed some shy attempts to pleasure his king this way before his journey to Worms, but Richard had only pleasured him with his hands until now, not because he hadn't wanted to, but because he had sensed that Erik hadn't been able to really enjoy it until this night. The thought of the king ranking so much higher than he himself doing this for him had been something he had needed to get used to, and Richard had wanted to spare this experience for the special night when Erik would give himself to him for the first time.

For this moment. Richard hummed in contentment when he felt Erik's legs falling apart with the sensation of a hot and wet, eager mouth taking him in, and he started to suck and lick while pushing his digits between Erik's spread legs for the very first time.

 

***

 

Erik didn't know what he had expected, how he had expected their first time to be, he had been too shy to ask Marian about it before his friend's departure. Asking Blondel, who was surely rather experienced when it came to sleeping with another man, had been out of the question for him, the blond minstrel being the one he couldn't ask such questions, at all. They were friends, but it wasn't the brother-like friendship he shared with the other squire, but a friendship that had been formed by their shared love for the English ruler and which was a much more intimate friendship with a layer of suppressed desire.

Erik was sure though that he hadn't expected his king doing this for him, and his feelings almost overwhelmed him, making him tremble with sheer and raw need and cry out with painful desire. He had been hard and aching since their first kiss, and every cell in his body screamed with the need for release. The young squire saw stars exploding before his closed eyelids as the clever and agile tongue that had claimed his mouth that thoroughly now started to claim the proof of his maleness, swirling around the thick head of his cock and stroking up and down on his proud spear until Erik feared that he would lose his mind right there and then.

He was so caught up in this new experience that it took him some time to realize that Richard had pushed his fingers between his trembling legs and was circling and massaging his virgin hole with two of them. It felt strange and a little bit weird, but also really amazing, Erik hadn't expected to feel such an intense pleasure when caressed there. But the gentle strokes added to the sensations he felt because of Richard's mouth around his cock, and he spread his legs wider and pushed back against the finger.

And then, Richard pushed one finger inside him, slowly and tenderly. Erik moaned and instinctively tried to pull away, but Richard's loving kiss on his abs soothed him again. “Hush, darling, I won't hurt you. Just let me in, please, sweetheart, I need you to,” the king whispered, his voice strangled with his emotions.

Erik drew in a shaky breath and relaxed, and when Richard carefully moved his finger forth and back, just to the first knuckle, he didn't try to escape the curious conqueror, but shyly moved his hips in time to the thrusts until Richard could push deeper. It burnt a little bit and felt strange, but when Richard took him back into his mouth and matched his sucking with his thrusts, all he felt was pleasure and lust, and Erik's next moan was an ardent moan of pleasure and not of pain.

The king took his time and just kept moving his finger and sucking Erik's twitching cock, but he was careful to not stimulate him that much that Erik would come from that, and when Erik was totally relaxed, he pulled his finger out just to push back in with two. Erik tensed up by the new experience, but his arousal and longing had loosened him up enough and it didn't take long until he relaxed again and simply enjoyed what Richard was doing. Hot jolts of lust and arousal shot along his spine every time the king brushed over one special spot inside him, and when Richard noticed his reaction, he started to search for this spot and grazed it with every thrust.

“Oh, Richard, this is, this feels...” Erik didn't know how to put his feelings in words, but Richard's tender chuckle proved to him that the older man knew what he was trying to say. “I know, my sweet young knave. It will be even better when I'm deep inside you!” he whispered around his cock, and Erik started to wonder how the king managed to do that without losing his own self-control. Erik had no chance to pleasure him, but Richard seemed to be fine with that. “Please, I want to pleasure you, too!” Erik moaned, helplessly, but Richard shook his head. “The next time, love. I'm ready for you, believe me. This is all new for you, and I want to do this right and not embarrass myself by coming too soon and leaving you unsatisfied.”

It touched Erik that Richard admitted his desire and his own worries that openly to him, and he relaxed again and let Richard intrude his still virgin passage with three fingers without objection. It still burnt, but the slight discomfort added to his pleasure and intensified it to a level where he was hardly able to recognize his own name anymore. His world had shrunk to the large and cozy bed he was lying in, and to the astonishing man who gave him so much pleasure with his mouth and his fingers – his sheer presence.

Erik had never felt this way before, that loved and cherished and treasured, and he let the sounds of pleasure and love flee his lips without trying to keep them inside, his only striving to show his beloved lionheart how much he longed to become his in every possible way.

“I need you, Richard, I need you now. Please, take me, I can't stand it anymore. I need to feel you inside me, don't let me wait any longer!” he cried out when he felt his orgasm approach, the double stimulation of this spot deep inside him he hadn't known that it was there before this night together with Richard's hot mouth driving him to the very edge of his control.

The king pushed in with his fingers one last time before pulling them out and hastily undressing his linen underpants. His gorgeous cock sprang free, and Erik felt his throat go dry with a mixture of longing, anticipation and fear when his eyes fell upon the proud evidence of Richard's desire for him. The young squire had touched the king's manhood a lot of times so far, had caressed it and felt the heavy weight in his hand, and he admired the beautiful sight of the deep-red tip glistening with the creamy-white drops Richard's tender preparation had milked from him, but he felt also a little bit worried about taking in the long and thick, hard spear that was so eager to impale him and fill him with the unmistakable proof that Erik belonged to his lionheart and his lionheart, only.

He watched Richard slicking his throbbing cock up with the oil, gulping for air, but when Richard covered him with his warm and strong body as he made himself comfortable between Erik's spread legs, Erik lost his fear, because Richard's smile was filled with love and confidence about what he was going to do. He trusted his king and he knew that Richard wouldn't hurt him.

Erik returned the smile and melted underneath him. “I'm ready for you, Richard. Please, make me yours!”

 

***

 

Richard looked down at his beloved Erik, and the trust he saw in his gaze brought tears of emotion in his eyes. Nothing had ever meant so much to him and for one moment, the king went completely still savoring this moment and uttering a silent promise to do this right and make this night unforgettable for his sweet young knave. The king knew that he would never forgive himself if he did this wrong, and he wasn't ashamed of the tears of love and joy glistening in his eyes.

“You will be mine, love, and I am yours forever, Erik. I love you,” he whispered, bending down for another sweet and tender kiss while he positioned himself and gently pushed forward, stroking with the wet head of his throbbing cock over Erik's pulsing, virgin entrance. The young man shivered with the sensation, and Richard kept doing that, sweat covering his forehead as he struggled to go slow and not just ram himself into the wonderful tight heat of Erik's secret core. Erik moaned and relaxed, and Richard had to close his eyes and bite his lips when his cock breached the tight ring muscle for the first time and Erik's hole sucked him in with surprising eagerness and ease.

Richard had possessed other men before, not as many as people might want to believe, and they had been men he had cherished and valued, not random acquaintances or just beautiful bodies that promised a few hours of forgetting and heated passion, but he had never taken someone he loved with all his heart before this night, and in some way, this was his first time as much as it was Erik's first time.

“I love you, Erik, I love you so much,” he murmured again and again while he sank deeper and deeper, and his young knave rewarded hims with moans and gasps and an ardently whispered “I love you, too, Richard. This feels so good, I need you, I need you inside me!”

Richard pushed the last few inches in and the feeling of Erik's tight walls gently clenching around his aching cock was almost too much for him. He went still again, focusing on his breathing to not just lose it. Erik felt so amazing around him, so perfect, so much like the home Richard had been searching for for his entire life without ever finding it. In this moment, he realized that his home wasn't a special place or country, but only the wonderful young man he held in his arms, his young knave who loved him unquestioningly – him, the man Richard and not the powerful ruler.

Richard swallowed and searched for his lips again, one single tear falling onto Erik's cheek. “You're my everything, Erik,” he said and then, finally started to move.

 

***

 

Feeling his beloved lionheart so deep inside him was overwhelming.

Nothing had ever felt as good as being so close to the man he loved with all his heart felt, and Erik wrapped his arms around Richard's back and braced his feet against the mattress to push his hips up and feel him even deeper inside his virgin body. Richard's strong muscles shifted under his fingers when Richard moved, the broadly built back giving the warrior and powerful fighter away. Richard might be in his last thirties, but he was at the peak of his strength and power, his body still as fit and strong as the bodies of much younger men were. Erik caressed the smooth skin over the hard muscles with rapt devotion, his hands wandering down to the king's hard backside to their own will as Richard started to move above him, pushing into him again and again with gentle but powerful thrusts.

His hot mouth swallowed Erik's moans and mewls of ardor and longing, his relentless tongue mimicking the thrusts of his proud weapon. Erik kissed him back with the same passion, his own desire rising to new, unknown levels with every move. He wanted this, he needed this, and the burn of the still unfamiliar intrusion sent shivers of lust along his spine. Richard possessed him with unrestrained ardor, demanding his total surrender and yet, his love and tenderness was tangible in everything he was doing, in his kiss, his murmured words of longing and adoration and in every powerful thrust.

Erik's cock rubbed against Richard's abdomen, leaving wet traces of arousal there, and Erik spread his legs as wide as he could and started to knead the older man's butt cheeks to pull him deeper and deeper into his body. It felt amazing to be so close to the man he loved, and his skilled lover had found this tiny spot hidden inside him again, his rock-hard cock hitting it almost every time he entered him. The bed creaked quietly in the rhythm of their lovemaking and the air was filled with the smell of their arousal and lust, intermingling with the fragrance of the oil and the candle-wax. Erik threw his head back on the pillow, needing to voice his pleasure more loudly, and Richard used the opportunity to lick and suck at his sensitive throat while sneaking his hand between their sweat-slick bodies to wrap his calloused fingers around Erik's aching member. “I want to pleasure you, Erik, I want you to come for me and scream my name while you do!” Richard demanded, his voice hoarse and raw with his own lust. “I want you to come and milk me so I can fill you with my seed and make you mine, all mine!”

Hearing Richard saying these words was too much for Erik's senses, the last straw he had needed to let go and drown in the intensest orgasm he had ever experienced. The young squire arched his back and cried out his beloved lionheart's name as the first wave of his climax washed over him with almost violent force. “Richard, oh Richard!” Wave after wave followed the first one and he released himself all over the calloused hand that knew so well how to handle not only a sword made of steel, but also a sword that was made of velvet skin and steel-hard muscles. His ecstasy erupted from his exploding manhood, and Erik felt his walls clenching rhythmically around Richard's member in time to the hot jets he spilled between their connected bodies. He raised his hips and dug his fingers into Richard's backside, pressing him deep and deeper, and he cried out again when his king followed him over the edge and emptied himself inside him, his semen filling him until there was no doubt left that Erik belonged to his beloved lionheart in every sense of the word.

“Love you, love you so much!” he moaned before everything went white and there was nothing than pure bliss for a rather long time.

 

***

 

Sensing the evidence of Erik's pleasure coating his fingers and his walls cramping around his aching member pushed Richard over the edge and right into the abyss of ecstasy, as well. He had clung to the last shreds of his self-control for quite some time, not wanting to come before his wonderful sweet lover had found satisfaction, and it was such a relief to just let go and succumb to the intense pleasure coursing through every cell of his body. The English monarch shoved himself into Erik's tight heat one last time, shuddering through the throes of passion together with him and filling his young knave with his hot release until he was completely spent and had nothing more to give.

Richard dropped down on the younger man, trying to catch his breath, and Erik let out a small purring sound of happiness and satisfaction and wrapped his arms tightly around him.

For a while, they simply lay there, enjoying the soft waves of the warm afterglow surging through their sated bodies, and Richard was tempted to fall asleep like this, enwrapped in Erik's warm arms and his wonderful scent, but he knew that he would crush him with his weight and that they would feel uncomfortable and sticky after waking up. Erik had served him with so much love after his return and now, it was upon Richard to return the favor and serve his sweet young knave.

The king pulled out of the heavenly warmth with a sigh of regret, pulling a sound of protest from his ardent lover with that. “Stay with me, I need you!” Erik complained, struggling to open his eyes and peer at him from underneath his eyelashes. Richard chuckled tenderly. “I'll be back right away, love. Just let me clean us up.”

“This is my task!” Erik attempted to sit up, but the king pressed him down on the mattress again. “Not now, love. For once, it is my turn to do that.” He took the cloth from the dressing table and moistened it with the cool water to wipe away the traces of their ecstasy from Erik's beautiful body. He didn't even forget to press it between Erik's thighs with greatest care and to his joy and relief, the young man flinched only slightly. He would feel a little sore the next morning, but hopefully not too much, and Richard put the cloth back into the bowl after cleaning himself. He climbed back into the bed and pulled Erik close to his body, bundling them in the furs and blankets.

Erik pillowed his head on his chest, pressing a loving kiss onto it. “I love you, Richard. This was amazing.” He sounded drowsy and happy, his body heavy with pleasant exhaustion.

Richard kissed his hair and stroked his cheek. “I love you, too, Erik and yes, it was, thank you, my sweet young knave. Now, go to sleep, we both need it.”

Erik purred in agreement and after only two or three more minutes, his even breathing betrayed that the young man was sound asleep. The king smiled and closed his own eyes, allowing the slumber of satisfaction to overtake him and bring him to the land of dreams where only happiness and love existed. In this land, Richard wasn't a prisoner, at all, and no worries existed there.

The next day, he would feel the visible and also the invisible walls of his prison surrounding and sometimes choking him again, but for a few peaceful hours, Richard wasn't the unfree king Richard Plantagenet, called the Lionheart, forced to carry the weight of responsibility and royal duties on his shoulders, but only the simple man Richard deeply in love with his sweet young knave Erik, and this was all he had ever wanted and needed to be.

 

_This picture has actually been taken this morning from our window, but I thought it perfect for this special chapter, and it could also be taken as the sunset and start of Erik's and Richard's special night. :-)_

  



	31. July 1193: The Castle Sleeps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard and Erik are celebrating their reunion while the castle settles down for sleeping, some other residents having trouble with finding their peace of mind...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Arrested, enjoy the new chapter of your story, I do fear that it will stay forever July if it goes on like that, but I will try to hop a little bit in the future with the next ones. This chapter was surprisingly painful to write, but I guess that I owed Marian and Blondel to describe their first night back on Castle Trifels in a proper way. Matthias and his defiant Jonas have sneaked their way into it, as well, I hope you will like it.
> 
> My dear readers, I hope you're still enjoying this monster of a story and don't find it too long and boring, I will do my best to let August approach. I normally avoid to include religion too much into my works, but the talk between Marian and Brother Hilarius was needed I guess, after all, I'm writing about the Middle Ages when homosexuality, especially male homosexuality, was considered a deadly sin, and I can't ignore this delicate topic, completely. If you're not comfortable with it, you can skip the part with Marian and my special monk.  
> I would love to hear what you think of this story which is very close to my heart, so please let me know, it would mean a lot to me. <33

The castle had settled down for the night some time ago, the buzzing activity that had filled its walls throughout the entire day subsiding to the soft murmur of those who had to stay awake and protect the ones finding peace and rest in the embrace of their beloved ones or simply in the arms of Morpheus for some hours.

Matthias, the leader of the Forest People, stepped behind his mate Jonas, who stood before the window of their room, staring blindly into the nightly, starry sky. The taller man wrapped his arms around the smaller one's midsection, pressing a chaste kiss onto the thick shock of dark-brown hair. “I hate these walls, they make me feel like choking,” Jonas mumbled, trying to give his small and subdued voice a defiant undertone. “How can anybody feel comfortable being surrounded by such thick and cold walls?”

Matthias rocked him gently, hoping that his presence and calmness would help his mate to calm down, as well. “It depends on how one looks at it, Jonas. For most people, these walls mean comfort and protection, giving them a feeling of safety and home.” He must know it because he had been raised between similar walls, his father's castle having been a true home until his unworthy and wicked uncle had occupied it and turned it into a hostile dungeon for all who lived there.

The former young baron and now outlaw knew both ways, living inside a castle and living outside in the thick forests of their beloved home, and he really understood Jonas' worries and fears. But Jonas had to learn to not mistrust all aristocrats because of the horrible experience he had made with one of this kind, and accepting Sir Walter's hospitality was surely not the worst start to rebuild the trust Jonas had lost a long time ago.

“Safety?” his defiant mate now snorted in the weak attempt to disguise his fear with disgust. “These walls are only a prison and nothing else. They can never be a true home. They are meant to lure us into false security and trap us when we're thinking that nothing bad will happen to us.”

“Sir Walter is a honorable man, love. He won't betray us. Apart from that, his majesty promised us that we are free to leave Castle Trifels whenever we want to leave it, and I trust him. He and his eagle won't let them harm us.”

Jonas sighed, leaning back against Matthias' strong frame. “No aristocrat is trustworthy, Sir Walter might have promised us that we're his honored guests, but he might change his mind very quickly like all so called noblemen do whenever it pleases them. I have to admit that King Richard could be the exception from this rule, but he is a prisoner himself, the emperor's hostage, and he won't be able to keep Heinrich's castellan from imprisoning us. Not to mention that the Earl of Lindelborn is not in the state to help us in case it comes to the worst. He is sick and injured, and he is also the emperor's sworn man, so I don't expect any help coming from him, either.”

They had had this discussion more often than Matthias could count, and he started to feel tired of it. He wasn't as naive to trust all aristocrats himself, even though he had once been one of them, but he trusted his instincts and he knew that not all noblemen and noblewomen were condemnable.

“So I am not trustworthy, Jonas?” He pushed his mate away from his body to turn him around and take him by his arms. “I am the son of a baron – the nephew of a robber baron and yet, you became my friend and fell in love with me. But love can't exist without trust, and if you don't trust me, then our love is condemned to die a painful death one day.” His voice was still calm and friendly, taking the edge of his sharp words, but it was also serious and strict.

Jonas hung his head in defeat, his shoulders slumping with exhaustion. “You are trustworthy, Matthias. I love you and of course, I trust you with my life, it's only that I feel so...”

The taller brunet pulled his confused mate close to his chest. “I know, love, and I understand your feelings. I don't ask you to trust all aristocrats and all people living here, Jonas. All I ask from you is that you trust me and my decisions. I would never do anything that could harm you and our people, you should know that by now.”

Jonas buried his face in the soft leather of Matthias' tunic. “I'll do my very best to do that, it's only hard between these thick and cold walls,” he whispered, finally relaxing and melting against the taller man. Matthias chuckled quietly and bent his head down to kiss his mate. “I think I know a way to distract you from your discomfort, love,” he purred against his lips, lifting the shorter one up to carry him to the cozy bed waiting for them to make good use of it.

Jonas wrapped his arms around him, his snicker much more carefree than Matthias would have thought it possible a couple of minutes ago. “Do you really think that this will work?” he teased the other man, who let out an ardent growl when he saw the passion in Jonas' eyes.

“We won't know until we've tried it, will we?” Matthias gave back, almost snarling because of his strong desire for his friend and lover, crossing the room with firm steps to throw his prey onto the bed and climb on top of him. Jonas snickered again, but his laughter turned into moans and gasps soon enough when his passionate mate's attempts to distract him from the feeling of being trapped between the thick walls of Castle Trifels proved to be very successful at last.

 

***

 

“Are you sure that I won't cause further damage by lying down beside him?” Marian asked worriedly when Brother Hilarius had covered the horrible wound with stripes of fresh linen. The friendly monk looked up from his task, smiling at the young squire. “Yes, I am sure, my dear. The eagle has been restless ever since we've brought him here, and his tossing and turning is much more dangerous for his injury than your loving arms could ever be. Feeling you close will surely soothe him and calm him down, I am convinced that he will sense your presence through his unconsciousness.”

Marian bit his lips, blushing by the monk's rather blatant words. “What must you think of us?” he mumbled, unable to meet Brother Hilarius' eyes. “You must be disgusted by our sinful love.”

The earl's chamber fell silent for a moment, and when Marian finally risked a quick, sidelong glance, he found the monk's gentle eyes directed at him without any hint of disgust or contempt. “True love will never be sinful, Marian. I don't think that these words can be used together in one sentence,” Brother Hilarius said when the young man dared to meet his gaze openly.

“But that's what the Holy Church teaches us, right? That two men loving each other are horrible sinners. That we will go to hell because of our love.” Marian retorted, his confused feelings about his desires rising to the surface of his consciousness after he had suppressed them for as long as possible. He was too exhausted to keep them at bay any longer though, and the monk's strange behavior and his acceptance of Robert's and his relationship made him say things he had actually wanted to keep to himself.

“I know that a lot of people, especially priests, think that a man lying with another man is one of the most horrible sins possible. But we're not talking about you only wanting to lie with your earl, right? Tell me Marian, have you chosen to fall in love with the eagle? Was it your purposely choice to love another man instead of a woman?”

Marian blinked, clearly confused. “No, it was not. When I was a young boy, I have always dreamed of finding a sweet young lady, marry her and have children with her.” He paused, chewing on his already bitten lip again, the slight pain helping him with keeping his self-control and not starting to cry like a baby right there and then. “Sometimes, I'm still dreaming of that.” he added much quieter, ashamed because his confession felt as if he betrayed Robert with it.

Brother Hilarius nodded. “Yes, that's understandable, Marian. You are the son of a Baron and you are expected to have children one day to keep your bloodline alive. Children are precious and even though your brother is the heir, but children die far too young often enough these days. So if you didn't choose to fall in love with your earl, don't you think that it might have been your fate that you yet fell in love with him? You are right, we are humans with a free will to decide what we're doing in most cases, but falling in love doesn't belong to that. We have no say in whom we love and I do believe that He knows that and that He would keep us from falling in love with the wrong person if it was truly such a sin. I choose to believe that Almighty God above is a kind God, loving His children and wanting them to be happy rather than thinking that us loving another being with all our hearts is making us condemned sinners.”

Marian stared at the monk with a dropped jaw, not sure what to say to that. He had never heard any other monk or priest saying something truly extraordinary like this, and he wasn't sure what to make out of it. “So you're really thinking that our love is not condemnable and a terrible sin?” he asked, turning his head to look at the dark-haired man lying still and pale in his bed. His heart ached with all the love he felt for Robert, and Marian reached out without thinking to stroke his pale and cold cheek. The young earl hadn't woken up ever since he had fainted after their arrival, and Marian was deeply worried about that. He had tossed and turned, groaned in pain when Brother Hilarius had treated his wound, but he hadn't woken up.

“Yes, I do.” The monk regarded him thoughtfully. “Would you stop loving him if you couldn't share his bed anymore, Marian? Would you leave him and search for someone else to satisfy your needs if you couldn't lie with him any longer?”

Marian gaped at him, shaking vigorously his head. “No, I will never stop loving him, and I will never leave him. Robert is my earl and as long as he wants me to stay by his side, I will happily do that. Not being able to share his bed will never change my feelings for him.”

Brother Hilarius nodded contentedly. “I thought so. Then, your love is truly love and not just physical desire, and true love can never be a sin, Marian. It has been the same with me. I didn't choose my one and only love myself, either.”

Marian accepted the mug with the herbals the monk had brewed for him, sipping from the hot beverage. “Your one and only love?” he inquired, not sure who the monk was referring to.

The older one chuckled. “Almighty God, Marian. When I was a young boy, living on my parent's farm, I dreamed of becoming a farmer myself, marrying my childhood love, the sweetest girl imaginable from the neighbor farm, and having a bunch of children with her. But when I became older, I could hear His call, and it became louder and louder until I couldn't ignore it any longer. I begged my parents to let me go, and even though it broke their hearts, they agreed to my wish and eventually let me go. I told my girl that she should stop waiting for me, and I was truly heartbroken, but it was the right thing to do. I became a novice in Eußerthal, and I have never regretted that I have followed His call and accepted the love He had chosen to be my true love. Serving Him by healing people and easing their pain and misery is my true love, while serving your earl and loving him with all your heart is yours, Marian.”

The young squire swallowed against he lump of gratitude in his throat, handing the mug back to the kind monk. “Thank you, Brother Hilarius, I feel much better now,” he whispered, meaning the gentle care as much as the monk's words.

Brother Hilarius' fatherly smile was understanding and full of warmth. “I'm glad to hear that, Marian. You should rest now, nevertheless. You really need your rest, the last days have been more than straining for you.” He pulled the covers back, and Marian undressed himself until he wore only his linen undershirt and his drawers. “What about you, Brother Hilarius? You have been up on your feet as much as I have been,” he asked, but the monk shook his head. “Don't worry about me, Marian. He is giving me enough strength to take care of both of you, and I am used to stay awake and nurse the sick ones during the nights. I will get enough rest, don't you doubt that. Oscar is a fine lad, he will help me and assist me. The eagle needs you, and sleeping next to him will be good for both of you.”

Marian gratefully slipped under the covers, snuggling close to Robert's uninjured side. He closed his eyes and relaxed with a small, hopeful smile on his face, the last thing he noticed before sleep claimed him the soft touch of Brother Hilarius' hand stroking his hair like his nanny had done it when he had been a young boy.

 

***

 

Blondel had helped Brother Hilarius and stayed in the earl's chambers until he was sure that the eagle how his king called his head-guard to honor him had the best care possible before excusing himself and striding directly to the stables where he knew that Nuri was waiting for him. The king's minstrel had promised to bring him news about Robert's state after the welcoming procedure, but that wasn't the only reason why his steps became faster and faster the closer he came to the long building.

He had offered the handsome equerry comfort when Nuri had needed it, and he knew that Robert's half-brother would do the same for him, being there for him without asking questions when Blondel for once was the one seeking comfort in his arms and needing a shoulder to cry on.

The large wooden building was silent and dark when he entered it, the sunset long gone and the night throwing dark shadows over the small path between the boxes. The few horses housed in this part of the stables snorted a quiet welcome to the nightly visitor, all of them familiar with Blondel's scent and the sounds of his steps. Summerwind peered over her box, but the blond bard only stroked her nostrils in passing, murmuring a quick promise that he would come back to her later. She turned her head to look after him, but the beautiful mare seemed to sense that her friend needed the comfort of another human being at the moment, because she didn't neigh after him, lying down instead for a nap when he turned around the corner.

Thunder must have lain down in his box to rest, as well, because the black Arab wasn't to be seen when Blondel passed his box, the lower part of the box made of solid wood instead of bars. Blondel paused down in his fast walking, but when Robert's stallion didn't get up to greet him, he didn't waste any more time and entered the box that had become Nuri's home for the time being.

The dark-haired equerry sat on his usual spot next to his sleeping place, a mug with beer in his hand and staring at the opposite wall, deeply lost in his thoughts. When Blondel stopped on the threshold, he looked up at him, watching him from under his thick and long eyelashes.

Blondel couldn't tell how long they just looked each other in the eyes, but it must have been more than two or three minutes before Nuri put his mug away and opened his arms for him. “Come here, Mars,” he said softly, and Blondel slipped into the box and crouched down beside him, burying his face on his shoulder. Nuri wore only a sleeveless leather tunic over his breeches, and Blondel pushed his nose into the warm crook between his neck and his bare shoulder, inhaling deeply the scent of his friend's skin as he struggled to keep his composure and not just fall apart. He wrapped his arms tightly around the other man, and Nuri rocked him gently, a silent but strong tower of strength in the stormy sea of Blondel's overwhelming emotions.

The young equerry didn't speak, he simply held him close, pulling him in his lap, and Blondel noticed with astonishment that he had started to cry without making any sound, his salty tears leaving wet traces on Nuri's warm flesh. “I'm sorry,” he finally croaked out when the tight knot in his throat loosened a little bit, but the younger one made a soothing sound. “Hush, Mars, I know. It's fine, you don't have to explain yourself, not to me. Just tell me what you need.”

Nuri pushed him away a little bit to look him in the eyes, cupping his wet cheeks with his calloused palms. “I'm here for you, Mars, and I won't go anywhere. You have been there for me when I needed you, and I will gladly do the same and give you what you need without asking questions.”

Blondel closed his eyes and swallowed, the cool breeze of the summer night drying the tears still streaming over his face. “I am happy for them, I really am. It just hurts so much,” he whispered hoarsely, and Nuri stroked with one thumb over his wet bottom lip. “You love them, Mars, of course it hurts. But you're not alone, you don't have to go through this on your own, my friend.” He bent forward to gently lay his own warm and dry lips on Blondel's cool and wet ones.

Blondel made a small sound, something between a sob and a sigh of relief as he opened his mouth for the other man, letting him in to caress the smooth and soft skin of the inner sides of his cheeks. The first times when they had been together as lovers, the older minstrel had always been the one taking the lead, but Blondel was content with surrendering to Nuri this time, not trying to take control of their kiss but only responding to it.

The dark-haired equerry took his time and explored Blondel's mouth thoroughly and without any hurry, licking his way around and caressing every spot within his reach until Blondel's lips were tingling from the sensation. They had changed positions during their kiss, Blondel now lying underneath the younger man in their cozy bed of fragrant hay, and he didn't object when Nuri started to undress them, kissing the naked skin he revealed, the curve of his collarbone down to his hard nipples. His own hands roamed over Nuri's broadly built back, pulling the tunic over his shoulders and throwing it to the side. Nuri's hands stroked over his flanks as he made his way further down, biting, sucking, licking and teasing, he seemed to sense that Blondel needed it rough and passionate in this night, needing something to distract him from the picture of his king making love to his young squire before his mind's eye.

Their breeches and underpants followed their tunics, and Blondel enjoyed the feeling of the hay tickling the flesh of his back and his butt while Nuri was still kissing and licking his front. “Tell me what you need, Mars!” the equerry demanded once more, his face flushed with desire and his dark curls falling ruffled into his forehead as he lifted his head up from Blondel's abdomen to look at him. “Do you want me to ride you?”

The minstrel returned the heated gaze, his cock twitching by the image of Nuri riding him with unrestrained passion. The thought was tempting, but not what Blondel needed tonight, and the bard shook his head and pulled the younger man up to kiss him again.

“I want you to take me, handsome. I want you to fill me with your hard manhood and take me as hard as you can!”

 

***

 

Nuri had clearly been surprised by his unexpected wish, because up to this night, Blondel had always been the one taking him, and he had always been a gentle and careful lover, making love to Nuri with greatest tenderness. But the equerry hadn't objected or tried to argue, only taken the vial with the oil and started to prepare him, pushing two slick fingers deep inside him while watching him silently with his beautiful hazel-gray eyes.

Blondel lay trapped beneath his strong frame, but he didn't try to pull away or fight for dominance, he wanted it this way, he craved to lose himself in Nuri's thrusts and forget everything except for their passion for at least a while. Nuri didn't go slow on him, just like Blondel needed it, grazing over the most sensitive spot deep inside his passage with every forceful thrust of his fingers, and Blondel didn't try to keep his composure any longer, letting his moans of need and desire flee his sore and tight throat and not suppressing his trembling with arousal.

The blond bard lay on his back with his legs spread wide, Nuri snuggled close to his side, never taking his eyes off his face. When he bent down to kiss him again, he used all of his strength to demand Blondel's surrender again, claiming Blondel's mouth with teeth, tongue and lips like he claimed his body with his fingers.

Blondel was soon shaking with the need to be taken, arching his back to feel Nuri's fingers as deep inside him as only possible. His passage was burning from the intrusion, but he welcomed the slight pain because it grounded him and made him forget the burning pain in his chest where his stupid heart was still crying over what he couldn't have but craved for so much.

Richard Plantagenet's love. Erik of Thanstein's love. The love of the two men who loved each other that deeply, their love for one another making it impossible for them to love him back the same way he loved both of them.

“I'm ready for you, handsome, please, take me now!” Blondel sobbed, squeezing his eyes shut to make the picture of a naked Richard Plantagenet moving over Erik, making love to him and filling him with his hot claim, go away.

“Are you really sure that you want this, Mars?” Nuri asked, hesitantly pulling his fingers out of Blondel's quivering hole.

“Yes, I am sure. Please, Nuri, I need it. I need you to take me hard. Please, make me forget, just for a while, please...” New tears were stinging in his eyes, and Nuri gently kissed them away. “I will, I promise you, my friend.”

Blondel focused on the rustling sound of the hay as the equerry now slicked his hard length up and positioned himself between his spread legs, the head of his engorged cock poking against his tight rosebud. “Don't go slow,” he gasped out, raising his hips and offering himself to the other man.

Nuri braced his hands against the hay-covered floor of the box at each side of his head and looked down at him for one long moment, his beautiful gray eyes shining in the moonlight falling through the small window under the ceiling of the horse box. His handsome features were suffused with his desire and his breaths came fast due to his strong desire, and Blondel stared back, taking in the breathtaking sight of his ardent lover.

“You're mine, minstrel, tonight, you're all mine and mine alone!” Nuri snarled when the tension between them became unbearable, pushing inside him with one powerful thrust without any warning.

 

***

 

Blondel cried out, his vision blurring with the sensation of being taken after the long time he had been the one on top, his walls clenching around the passionate intruder sheathing itself to the hilt in his tight heat. Nuri didn't give him the time he would have needed to adjust, but pulled out again to thrust in once more right away, setting up a hard and fast pace and shoving the older man against the wall of the box with every move.

Blondel's nails scratched helplessly over Nuri's shoulder blades and he dug his heels into the hay, meeting Nuri's thrusts with despair and something akin to wrath. Their husky moans and gasps filled the fragrant air, the sounds of skin slapping against skin the rhythm of the melody of passion and lust as Nuri possessed him with wanton abandon, filling him with his hard and throbbing member again and again until Blondel's world shrank to the box and the burning spot where their bodies were connected.

“Want you, handsome, need you, gimme more!” Blondel ground out, grateful that the painful pictures haunting him had blurred at least a little bit when Nuri had thrust into him for the first time. He knew that his nails would leave marks on the younger man's back, but he didn't care about it and Nuri didn't seem to care about that, either, just pushing in and pulling out in his steady and ardent rhythm until Blondel felt his climax approaching. His neglected manhood was leaking milky drops of lust onto his abdomen, pulsing with the need to be touched, and he tried to pull Nuri closer to get more friction, but the equerry didn't give in, only changed his angle to push even deeper.

Stars exploded before Blondel's eyes with the almost violent hit against his sweet spot and he cried out, shaking underneath Nuri's strong body. The dark-haired equerry started to batter the sensitive knob mercilessly when he saw Blondel's reaction, growling contentedly. “You will come untouched for me, Mars! You will stop fighting and give yourself to me, understood?” His voice was as rough as his relentless pummeling was, and Blondel stopped fighting against him and the images he had wanted to forget, arching his back and coming with a loud shout to the picture of Richard filling his young knave with his ecstasy.

His vision went white with the force of his release, hot waves of milky wetness spurting between their sweaty bodies. Nuri growled again, his hips snapping forward one last time as he came hard deep inside Blonde's crumbling channel, the sensation of the younger one marking him with his own ecstasy the last thing he felt for a rather long time.

 

***

 

The castle had gone silent, even the soft murmur of the night watch finally fading when Luna had started her journey over the nightly sky, her soft, silvery light shining into the dark chambers to caress the residents sleeping peacefully, their curled figures relaxed in their pleasant dreams.

Jonas lay snuggled close to his mate, a small, happy smile of satisfaction replacing the defiant expression he wore when he was awake, small sighs escaping his lips now and then. Matthias had needed longer to fall asleep after their passionate encounter, but he was dreaming of the wide and green forests of his beloved home now, his fingers buried deep in the tousled shock of brown hair resting on his shoulder.

Brother Hilarius had fallen asleep in his chair, snoring quietly, but he would wake up the moment the young earl would need him. Robert of Lindelborn had stopped his tossing and turning, Marian sleeping next to him, curled against his side, had calmed him down enough to let his unconsciousness turn into a deep and healing slumber, his uninjured hand resting on Marian's back. The eagle would need a long time to heal and recover from his wound, but he was back on Castle Trifels where he was safe and would get the care and love he needed to recover fully, the young man who loved him with all his heart and the kind monk seeing to that together.

Richard Plantagenet and his beloved young knave had fallen asleep in each other's arms, their features relaxed and suffused with their deep love even in their sleep, their bodies still glowing with the aftermath of their shared passion.

Robert's younger brother Nuri, the handsome equerry of the emperor's stables, was still awake, but his eyelids started to drop with pleasant exhaustion after their desperate lovemaking, his fingers grazing feather-like over the now dried traces of Blondel's tears. The blond minstrel was sound asleep in Nuri's protective embrace, the gentle blackness of his deep slumber granting him forgetting from his heartache for a few peaceful hours.

The proud imperial castle slept and its residents slept with it, taking a well-deserved rest from the daily duties and the worries about their beloved ones, now that the king and his eagle had finally found their way back to it and returned to Castle Trifels - the castle with the thick, red walls - which had somehow become a true home to all of them, as unbelievable as it might have once seemed to be.

 

_Castle Thanstein, Erik's home again:_

  



	32. July 1193: Passion, Love And Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik wakes up in Richard's arms after the king's return and their wonderful night. Will their first morning together after their long separation be as passionate as their first evening was, or will there be some clouds darkening their reunion?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dear Arrested, I'm sorry that this update took me so long, I actually wanted to post it two days ago, but a nasty stomach bug holding me and my entire family as prisoners for the last four days kept me from doing so. Today is the first day I can be up for some hours and look at a computer screen without becoming sick and dizzy, I hope that this update won't disappoint you. It is a short chapter and turned out different from what I had planned, but I hope you will like it, nontheless. I will try to hop a little bit forward into the future to let August approach with the next one. :-)
> 
> My dear readers, I'm sticking as close to history as possible with the more or less little information available about Richard's life and his imprisonment, and the information about his marriage and his wife are quite different. It is a fact that Richard Plantagenet didn't have legitimate children, and some historical sources doubt that he has ever consummated marriage with his wife Berengaria. I'm aware that the general opinion about Richard having been gay is not as common nowadays as it had been for a very long time, but there is also no real proof that he wasn't, and I took the freedom of using those sources fitting best into my story, namely Richard actually having been gay (even though he couldn't live that way openly, of course), and him never having slept with Berengaria. The most important woman in his life has always been his mother Eleonore, not his former fiancée he left for the political marriage with Berengaria, and surely not his official wife, there is no doubt left about that.
> 
> If you're still enjoying this story, please let me know and leave kudos and comments for me, it would really mean a lot to me. <33

Erik woke up to the feeling of warmth surrounding him, not the warmth of a cover or a fire, but the warmth only another body could radiate, and the warm and naked body he lay snuggled against now moved as his beloved king started to trail kisses all over his face, soft and loving kisses Erik had missed so much over the past weeks.

The brown-haired squire stretched like a lazy tomcat, and the older man purred in contentment when he saw that his attempts of waking his sweet young knave up and arousing his interest in some pleasant morning activities had been successful.

“Good morning Richard,” Erik whispered shyly, feeling a little bit unsure after their passionate night all of a sudden.

“Good morning my sweet Erik,” the older man murmured against his throat, his chin-long hair falling over Erik's softly-rounded cheek and tickling at his lips. The young man moaned with desire when Richard started to nibble at his vulnerable skin, the king's stubble scratching over his neck and bare shoulder making him shiver with arousal. Erik had woken up with a raging hard-on almost every morning over the past weeks, but this time, it was different. This time, his erection was caused by Richard's ardent ministration and not only by his wistful memories, finally feeling his arms around him again, his strong body covering his own and his hot and longing kisses on his skin nearly overwhelming the young man.

He wrapped his own arms tighter around Richard's broad back, roaming with his fingers over the still sleep-warm flesh of his skilled lover. He had missed him so much, each and every hour of their long separation, and he still feared that this was only a dream he would wake up from any time soon, just to find himself alone on his small and empty cot once more.

“I've missed you so much, Richard, I love you so!” he croaked out close to tears, and Richard raised his head to look at him and tenderly stroke his face with his calloused thumb. “Words cannot describe how much I have missed you, darling,” the king answered, his expression unguarded and full of love and tenderness. “Yesterday, when I undressed you and found my letter over your heart... you don't know how much it means to me that you have carried it right over your heart the entire time.”

Erik turned his head to the side to kiss Richard's knuckles. “Day and night, my beloved Richard. I will always carry your wonderful words right over my heart, and I will never let anybody take them away from me.”

The king regarded him with a wistful and melancholy expression before he bent down to finally kiss him on his rosy lips, and Erik returned the kiss with unrestrained passion and longing, opening his mouth for his royal lover and letting his tongue slip inside. For a while, they were content with exploring each other this way, but their desire for one another became too strong to ignore it any longer when Richard started to imitate the act of lovemaking with his curious tongue, thrusting deep into Erik's mouth and stroking his flanks and his thighs with feverish hands.

Erik bucked his hips up in desperate need, craving to feel Richard inside him again, and he was grateful that they had fallen asleep in each other's arms naked, because they could enjoy their closeness without having to undress beforehand now.

“I want to feel you again, my beloved Richard, please, take me!” he moaned, but to his dismay, Richard shook his head, soothing him with soft kisses on his damp eyelids. “It's too soon for that, darling, I don't want to hurt you. You will feel me again, darling, I promise you, but not today. There are a lot of other pleasurable things we can do instead, love.”

Erik pursed his lips to a pleading pout. “Please, I am fine, I really am!” he complained, and the older man chuckled softly. “Oh, I believe you that you're fine, my sweet young knave. But I want you to stay fine, and taking you this morning would cause you serious discomfort afterwards, please trust me in that. Besides, you have to be considerate of my age, Erik. I'm not as young as you are any longer, and I would be grateful for a less straining and exercising performance after a long day in the saddle and such a wonderful but exhausting welcome like we've had yesterday late in the evening,” the king stated, dryly, and Erik's pout turned into an amused and happy snicker.

“You're not old, at all, my wonderful Richard. You're much younger and surely much more ardent than any other man I know! You're the most desirable, beautiful and passionate man on this earth, I know that for sure!” he assured the English sovereign, whose expression changed from mischievous to passionate and rapturous within the blink of an eye by Erik's ardent words.

“That's only because of you, darling. I would never have thought that I could ever feel like a young man again, forgetting the weight of the years I have already lived pressing down on me like they have done ever since Leopold has captured me. I hadn't expected to ever burn with desire and passion again like I'm doing each and every minute of the day since you literally stumbled into my life here on Castle Trifels right after my arrival. Not to mention that I really hadn't expected to find my one and only true love here in this foreign country, far away from my home. But I did, and I love you more than words could ever express, darling. You are the one making me feel young, carefree and passionate, arousing my desire like no one else has ever done before, only you and nobody else.” Richard claimed his mouth in another searing and heated kiss before Erik could answer to that, and he pressed him down into the mattress with his weight, their rock-hard cocks trapped between their bellies rubbing against each other as he did so. Erik shivered with the sensation, his desire for Richard becoming almost unbearable.

“Richard... love... my lionheart... please, I need to... I need...”he stammered into their kiss, daring to address the impressive ruler as his love and his lionheart for the first time. He felt as if Richard's passion and desire would burn him in their heat, and he arched his back and sobbed because of the fire running through his veins, a fire only his beloved lionheart could quench. He needed to feel Richard, he needed to be as close to him as only possible, and he pulled his head down for another deep kiss to tell him with his lips and his tongue what he couldn't express with his voice, wishing he could just crawl into the older man and stay there forever.

The English monarch let out a low growl as he sensed Erik's need, fumbling for the small vial with the oil and slicking his fingers up before snaking his right hand between their bodies to wrap it around both of their steel-hard and already with pre-come slick members.

The feeling of Richard's warm hand stroking his aching cock together with his own nearly pushed Erik over the edge right away, and the twitching of his king's erection proved to him that Richard was as close to losing his self-control as he himself was. Erik moaned, digging his nails into Richard's scalp to keep his head in place in a more than demanding way, far too gone to care about his probably inappropriately possessive behavior. His lionheart didn't seem to mind his changed demeanor though, quite the opposite, his strokes became faster and more passionate, a clear sign that Erik's desire for him aroused him. Erik now startled to battle for dominance over their kiss in earnest when he felt the king's reaction, pushing his own tongue deep into Richard's mouth and licking his way around to explore it and claim every spot within his reach as his. The king let him do that for a while, his warm and slick fingers pressing their throbbing shafts together as he stroked both of them to completion.

Erik still craved to feel the man he loved so much deep inside his aching core, but he was reasonable enough to know that Richard was right with what he had said about him taking him again being too early after his first time, because he felt tender and a little bit sore between his thighs, and sitting and riding would become really uncomfortable if they did it too soon again.

Instead, he focused on their kiss and the arousal and desire Richard's warm hand made him feel, the hand that was so skilled not only when it came to holding a sword or the reins of a vivid horse, but also when it came to pleasure his lover.

The young squire of course knew that his king had had other lovers before him, that he was a married man, but Erik pushed these thoughts aside as best as he could, wanting to believe that he was the only one Richard had ever loved and truly desired, the king's ardent kisses and ministration making him feel special and loved in this passionate moment between them.

Erik had been close to his climax with the first touch of Richard's fingers, and his need for release was too strong to fight against it and let it last longer. The next stroke up and down on his twitching member pushed him over the edge and right into the abyss of pure ecstasy, and Erik cried out into their deep kiss, spilling his semen all over his king's hand. Richard followed him with the next one, their seed intermingling between their bellies, and Erik pulled his lionheart close and pressed himself against the older man's strong and tall frame, craving to feel Richard's shivers of delight and pleasure and share his own ecstasy with him. The king drew back from his swollen lips with a hoarse moan as his own climax washed over him, burying his face in the crook of Erik's damp throat, his hand clenching around their shooting members.

It seemed to last for an eternity, but just when Erik was sure that he couldn't stand the hot waves of lust coursing through him any longer, they subsided to the warm afterglow of utter satisfaction, and he relaxed gratefully, releasing the king's head from his surely painful grip. Richard purred against his throat, a soft and sated sound that vibrated in their chests, and Erik answered with a happy moan, kissing the fragrant strands of brown hair grazing over his cheek.

For a while they just lay there, listening to their calming heartbeats and enjoying their reunion and closeness, but it didn't take long until Erik's stomach made itself noticeable with a rather loud rumble, causing the king to chuckle with tender amusement and Erik to groan with embarrassment.

“I'm sorry, my king, what must you think of me?” he mumbled sheepishly, and Richard raised his head to kiss the tip of his nose. “That you are a wonderful young man needing to regain some strength after our pleasurable exercises yesterday and today. Besides, I could do with something to eat, as well.”

“I should get up and see to us getting some breakfast, then,” Erik stated, gently pushing against the older man still lying on top of him with his full weight. Richard rolled to the side with a theatrical groan, his eyes roaming over Erik's naked figure when his sweet young knave got out of bed and walked over the bowl with the water and the wash cloth.

“You're the most beautiful being I've ever seen, Erik. I didn't know that such beauty could exist before I met you.”

The king's words spoken with so much honesty and sincerity caught Erik off guard somehow, reminding him of his thoughts from a couple of minutes ago about Richard's former lovers, and the young squire hesitated for the split of a second before coming back to the bed to carefully wipe the traces of their passionate encounter from the royal abdomen. He kept his eyes firmly on his task, flinching when Richard gently laid his fingers under his chin to make him look at him. “Did I say something wrong, darling?” the king asked, his voice calm but with an edge of uncertainty.

Erik swallowed against the unexpected jealousy of Richard's former lovers and wife he hadn't felt until now. He didn't fight against Richard's grip, but he avoided his gaze by keeping his eyes lowered down on the older man's still flat and well-toned abs. “I am just a simple young man, I am sure that there have been others much more beautiful and worthier of your love, sire. I've heard that your wife is of stunning beauty...” He hated how reproachful and whiny his voice sounded, but he couldn't keep his worries and his confused feelings to himself anymore. He had fought hard against his uncertainties, but the emotional turmoil he had gone through ever since Richard had left Castle Trifels was finally taking its toll. Not to mention what the discovery about the earl he had trusted with his life having taken him and his pregnant sister as his hostages to gauge the man he loved had done to his peace of mind, even though he had truly forgiven Robert of Lindelborn for that.

“Erik, love, please look at me,” the English monarch asked him after a couple of seconds of silence, and he didn't sound angry or hurt, only understanding and a little bit surprised. Erik bit down on his full bottom lip as he dared to raise his eyes at the king's face, and the love he could see in Richard's beautiful brown eyes let tears well up in his own hazel-green ones.

“I'm sorry, sire, I didn't mean to be impudent,” he apologized, stifling a sob and fiddling with the wash cloth he still held in his hands.

Richard sat up and took the cloth to throw it back in the direction of the bowl, proving his skills when it came to aiming at a target he wanted to hit. He growled contentedly when the cloth fell right into the bowl, pulling the young man into his lap. “You haven't been impudent, sweetheart, your confusion is quite understandable,” the king assured him, brushing a soft light-brown strand out of his forehead. Erik leaned against his shoulder, craving for his tender touch.

“I haven't lived the life of an eunuch, Erik, there have been others before you, men and women. Not as much as the rumors might want you to believe, but a few, and they have been men and women I liked and respected. But, I didn't love any of them the way I love you, darling. Before I met you, I didn't know what true love actually is, how it feels to love someone more than my own life. I might be a king, not having the real power about my own life and how to live it or with whom, but no one on this earth has the power to tell me who I am allowed to love. My life might not belong to myself, but my heart belongs to you, Erik, and I will never stop loving you with all my heart for the rest of my life, no matter whether we will be together or apart from each other. You don't have any reason to be jealous of anyone, and surely not of my wife. Yes, Berengaria is a beautiful woman, but our marriage exists only on the parchment we have sealed, I have never taken her into my bed, nor do I plan to do that in the future.”

Erik blinked, stunned by this revelation. “But, you're the King of England, you need a heir!” he cried out, and Richard sighed with a sad smile. “I had thought that I already had a worthy heir in my younger brother John, it seems that I have been wrong with that. Only time will tell whether or not we will find back to our relationship and trust, at least, he didn't conspire with the French king and approved Philipp's attempt to murder me on a dusty road in the middle of nowhere through the hand of an Italian assassin.”

Erik wrapped his arms tightly around Richard's neck by the reminder of what had happened on the king's journey back to Castle Trifels and how close he had been to losing him, his short bout of jealousy fading, completely.

“I love you so, Richard!” was all he could say, and the English sovereign pulled him close and kissed him on his temple. “I love you, too, Erik. You're the only one I've ever loved and you're the only one I will ever love. Please don't listen to those tongues trying to tell you otherwise. If anybody in this world is worthy to be loved, then it is you, my sweet young knave.”

Erik's answer consisted of a quiet sound, something between a sob and a happy laugh, and they held each other close until Erik's stomach made another rumbling sound. The English ruler gently pushed him away, stroking his cheek. “What do you think about fetching some food and then, visiting the eagle to see how he's doing today? I am sure that you telling him again that you're not angry with him any longer would do him a world of good.”

Erik nodded with a shaky but honest smile. “I would love that. I have missed both of them, deeply, and I would love to spend some time with them.”

The young squire hesitated before he straightened his shoulders. “I know that Blondel longs to spend some time with you alone, Richard, and I don't want you to think that I would begrudge you spending some time alone with him, because I don't. I know that he holds himself responsible for what has happened, and he needs to know that you're still his friend and that you still love him the way you did before those terrible happenings. I might have suffered from a short bout of jealousy, but I have made my peace with your special bond with Blondel a rather long time ago, and I don't want you to think that I could begrudge you your friendship with the one true friend from your home and your past here in this for your not only foreign but also hostile country. Blondel has started to teach me French and English, but I still can't speak it as fluently as I needed to for an entire conversation, and apart from that, it wouldn't be the same for you. You spending time with your best friend and being able to talk to him in your two mother tongues is nothing I could ever be truly jealous of, and you being as happy as possible under the circumstances of your imprisonment is what makes me happy. Knowing that you will come back into my loving arms afterwards will be enough for me.”

Richard's young knave waited anxiously for his beloved lionheart's answer, and the smile he got as a reward for his rather long speech made his heart flip with happiness, because the king's smile lit up the room like the bright summer sun and warmed his soul like Richard's arms embracing him warmed his body.

“Thank you, darling, you don't know how much your understanding and approval mean to me. You are right, I long to spend time with my dear friend and talk to him in much more familiar tongues, but not for the price of hurting you with that. Be sure that my love for Blondel is different from my love for you, it will never threaten what we share.”

Erik smiled at his beloved king. “I know, Richard. Blondel has honored me by telling me his story – your story. If I hadn't already loved you before that, I would surely have fallen in love with you after knowing what you have done to save a young boy and his sister from such a cruel fate.” He bent forward for a chaste but sweet kiss, and when they parted again, Erik rose to his feet and went to the king's chest, going back to his long-missed duties as the English monarch's personal squire.

“Let me help you in some comfortable clothes for our breakfast, my king,” he said when he came back with the breeches and the tunic he had chosen for his lionheart, and his tender voice made clear that he didn't address Richard this way to be servile, but only to honor him.

The impressive ruler accepted his service with a gentle and grateful smile, and when Erik left their quarters to fetch the promised breakfast half an hour later, he was at peace with himself and the world again, a soft and happy smile enlightening his handsome features and telling everyone he met on his way that they didn't need to worry anymore, now that the king and his eagle were back where they belonged, safe and sound on Castle Trifels.

 

_This picture is also to be found in my story 'The Treasure Of Castle Trifels', but I found it suitable for this chapter, as well, because it deals with Richard's status as a monarch and what it means for his life and the way he has to live it and meet the expectations of his country, his subjects, the Church and other aristocrats and sovereigns. This is the copy of the Imperial Crown shown on Castle Trifels, the Imperial Orb visible behind it._

  



	33. End Of July 1193: An Eagle With Broken Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A couple of days have passed since Richard's return to Castle Trifels, and Robert still lying down because of his injury is suffering from a high fever. Will the king be able to ease the eagle's troubled mind and help him getting better again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Arrested, sorry, this chapter took me so long, but my writing time is pretty limited at the moment. I hope you will enjoy Richard's and Robert's talk. <33

“How is the eagle today?” Richard the Lionheart entered the earl's quarters a few days after their return together with Erik and Blondel, while his two personal guards Sven and Lars positioned themselves in the large hallway before Robert of Lindelborn's chambers.

Brother Hilarius peered up at him from where he was sitting beside the young earl's bed, and when he attempted to rise to his feet and bow before the English sovereign, the impressive ruler beckoned him to stay seated with a friendly smile. “Please stay where you are, there is no need for you to strain yourself with such unimportant things like keeping up appearances, my dear brother. I can see that you have been up all night long again, and you taking care of my life-savior and seeing to his well-being that devotedly and skillfully is your way of paying your respects to me and all I need.” The older man rewarded his kind words with a small but grateful smile, and Richard stepped closer to the bed where the young earl was tossing and turning, murmuring unintelligible things in his fitful sleep.

“Thank you, Erik.” The king smiled at his young squire pulling the chair for him where Marian had sat before, sitting down on it to gently lay his hand upon Robert's pale forehead. Two red spots on the knight's cheeks proved that the earl had developed a rather high fever that battered him pretty much, and the pained expression on his sunken features Robert didn't lose even during his restless slumber worried the older warrior more than he wanted to admit.

“Unfortunately, he is not really better than yesterday. His wound is not inflamed as far as I can tell, and it doesn't stink and is already healing, so it can't be the reason for his sudden and that high fever,” the plump monk sighed, his hollow cheeks speaking of sleepless nights and concern. “I had really thought that he was on his way of making a full recovery, and I tried a stronger medicine, but the fever simply won't go down.” The monk's voice was a mirror of his worries like his face was, and Richard could hear that the healer blamed himself for Robert of Lindelborn's state.

“The eagle's fever is not your fault, Brother Hilarius. On the contrary, I am convinced that he would be in much worse shape if it wasn't for your care. I think I know what's troubling my life-savior that much.” The English king looked at his sweet young knave who was standing behind his chair. “Erik, I want you to see to our dear brother lying down on a comfortable bed and sleeping for at least five hours. Oscar can stay with him and serve him, fetching a light meal and some wine. After that, I want you to come back here and take care of Marian for a while.”

The young squire who had trapped his heart and shared some wonderful and passionate hours with him over the last days smiled down at him with rosy cheeks. “Of course, sire. Everything shall be to your liking.” He bent forward, offering the exhausted monk his arm for support. “Please, Brother Hilarius, let me bring you to one of the guest chambers, you look pale and exhausted. My lord will be in the best hands possible during your absence.”

Brother Hilarius was obviously too tired to argue, and he gratefully grabbed Erik's arm as he rose to his feet with wobbly legs and a grimace betraying his aching bones. “Thank you, Erik of Thanstein, I have to admit that I would be thankful for some hours of undisturbed sleep.”

Richard nodded. “That's understandable, my dear brother. Oscar shall see to the servants bringing a tub and hot water for Brother Hilarius, Erik. A warm bath will do miracles and ease the pain in his sore muscles and bones.” Erik bowed before him. “Of course, sire. I will see to that myself while Oscar is fetching the food.” He guided the monk to the adorned wooden door, and Richard watched them leave with slow steps, the Cistercian cowl flapping around the brother's figure. Brother Hilarius was still on the plump side, but he had visibly lost weight over the past days, and there were deep lines in his face and dark shadows under his eyes that hadn't been there before, letting him look older than he actually was.

When the door closed behind the two so different men, Richard shifted his attention to his beloved friend and confident. Erik had kept his promise and seen to Blondel and him getting enough time to talk to each other privately, and after the first painful minutes with the younger man kneeling before him, his face buried in the hem of his coat as he sobbed his heart out because of his relief, shame and regret, they had been able to renew their bond and their faith in each other.

Richard had felt as if a heavy weight was taken from his shoulders, and he had listened carefully to Blondel's apologies and his reasons for hiring the Forest People and causing so much trouble with that. The English sovereign was actually secretly glad about his friend's deed, because it was much likely that the traitorous Italian count would have found another way for his murderous attempt, and Richard wasn't so sure about how this attempt would have ended without the Forest People being there to help them.

 

***

 

_“I am so sorry, my King Richard, I really am. More than you'll ever know. I had planned everything thoroughly, finding some men willing to let themselves be captured to lead the earl on the wrong path while actually negotiating with the Forest People. I hired them before I came here and without really knowing anything about the circumstances of your captivity. I was sure that you were held as a real prisoner on Castle Trifels and that no one living here would truly care about you and your well-being. I had missed you so much, and all I could think of was that our people needed you so badly. I thought that the emperor was treating you like his most hated enemy and that you were unhappy and longing for someone to free you...” Blondel's voice had broken at the end, and Richard had pulled him up onto his feet and into his arms. Words hadn't been necessary, the older man's mere presence and his gentle embrace being enough to console his desperate friend at least a little bit._

_Richard had of course known that the earl's injury and the Italian's attempt to murder him hadn't been the only things weighing on Blondel's shoulder and mind, and his heart had ached for his best friend who had always been some kind of younger brother to him. In this moment, when the king had held and rocked his crying friend, he hadn't been able to deny the truth any longer though, finally admitting that he loved Blondel not only as a brother, but also the beautiful and desirable man he actually was._

_Eventually facing his deep love for his faithful minstrel, Richard had gently laid his fingers under Blondel's chin to make him raise his head. When the younger man had looked at him with red and teary eyes, Richard called the Lionheart had let him see all of his emotions, his own love and his regret about what could never be. For a while, they had simply looked each other in the eyes, and when the blond minstrel had lifted his hand to caress Richard's from his silent tears wet cheek, the king had kissed him on his lips. It had been only a chaste and short kiss, but it had been the tender kiss of a lover and not the kiss of an older brother._

_Both of them knew that there could never be more than deep friendship between them, not only because of Richard being the English king and former prince who had saved Blondel when he had been a young boy, but also because of Erik and Richard's love for the sweet young man. Erik of Thanstein was the love of his life, and Richard would never cheat on him and betray his faith and their love. But Richard had needed this kiss as much as Blondel had needed it as a reassurance, and the younger man's face had lost its pained and haunted expression when they had parted again. There had still been grief and longing in his understanding gaze, but also gratitude and happiness about Richard having found the love of his life in Erik's loving arms._

_“Are you happy, my King Richard?” he had only asked, his voice calm and not wavering. Richard had smiled at him, the memories of Erik's sweet love and innocent passion filling his mind and his heart._

_“Yes, my dear friend, I am happy, more than I had ever thought I could be because of another human being.” Richard Plantagenet hadn't needed to think about his answer._

_“Then, I am happy, too, my king.” Blondel had stroked his cheek again before stepping back and pulling back from Richard's arms, slipping easily into his role of the king's loyal friend and confident again._

_Richard had been deeply grateful for his understanding and his will to bury his deep love for him to just be the close friend the English monarch needed him to be; and he had squeezed his hand before going back to business and asking him about the happenings during his absence as if nothing had happened between them._

_Blondel had answered honestly and sincerely to all of his questions, and when Blondel had left him to go to the stables and help the young equerry with the royal horses, Richard had watched him leave with a bad conscience but with a much lighter heart than he had had before._

 

***

 

Richard blinked to pull himself out of his memories, meeting Blondel's calm and questioning gaze. The blond bard waited patiently for his king to address him, and Richard cleared his throat and sighed.

“Would you please go to the stables, my dear friend? I need to talk to the eagle in private for a moment, and apart from that, I do believe that getting good news about his faithful stallion might help reviving Robert's spirits. Nuri has been the one taking care of his beloved companion, so he might be the best one reassuring him that Thunder is doing much better. Take young Marian with you, please, Lord Robert's loyal squire looks as if he could do with some fresh air and moving his legs a little bit.”

If Blondel saw through him, he didn't let it show. The bard only nodded his head in a brief but respectful bow, something he usually did only rare times and when other unknown aristocrats were around. “As you wish, my King Richard,” he agreed without arguing, his eyes traveling over Marian's figure. Robert's first squire had bowed before Richard when he had come in, but he had stayed silent, standing beside his lord's bed after getting up from his chair like a pale and lifeless marble statue. He didn't even object against Richard's wish, and this told the king more than protesting words would have. Marian looked as thin and pale as the English monarch had never seen him, and his beautiful brown eyes had lost their sparks and were red and dark with his worries and exhaustion.

“Come here, young Marian,” Richard ordered friendlily, offering the young brunet his hand. Marian took it after a tiny moment of hesitation, stepping closer to the king but averting his eyes from the injured man still tossing and turning in his sick bed. His lips trembled, and Richard's heart clenched with the sympathy he felt for the normally so brave and confident squire. “I don't want you to leave because I want to keep some important secrets from you, Marian, you know that, don't you?”

Marian swallowed but nodded his head. “Yes, I know that, sire,” he murmured, his voice hoarse from the lack of sleep and too many tears he had cried over the past days.

“I think that I know a way to fight the eagle's fever, and I do believe that you know what I am referring to, but your lord is a proud man, and it will be easier for him to accept my words when you're not around.”

Marian's eyes darted to the dark-haired earl before fixing on the king's face again. “I trust you, sire. It's just that I feel so helpless. I thought that my love would help him to recover, but it seems to be the opposite, he's getting weaker and weaker and he's been tossing much more than he's doing at the moment the last time I tried to hold him...” His voice cracked at the end, and Richard squeezed his cold fingers to comfort him.

“Your love does help him, young Marian, don't you doubt that. Without you, he would be in much worse shape, believe me. But you're also right that your love can't help him the way it would normally do with the one deep worry still weighing on his mind. So let me talk to him alone and undisturbed for a while, and I am convinced that both of you will feel better afterwards. You have stayed here all day and night long, Marian. You're a young man, and you really need some fresh air and other surroundings for one or two hours. I will send Erik after you when he's coming back, you could take a walk together and let the sun shine onto your faces. My dear friend Blondel will stay with Thunder as long as the equerry will tell your earl about Thunder's doing, and Robert will surely be glad about your cheeks having become rosy from the sun and the fresh air when he'll see you again in one or two hours.”

Marian bit his lip but sighed in agreement. “Will you tell him that I love him?” he only whispered, and Richard smiled at him. “The eagle knows about your love for him, Marian, don't you doubt that. But of course, I will do that for you.” He turned his attention to his minstrel. “I need some time to talk to him, Blondel, maybe half an hour or so.”

The blond bard nodded and waved at Marian to join him as he made his way to the door. “Of course, my King Richard. I will see to the equerry coming to you not sooner than in about half an hour then.” He opened the door for Marian who had followed him much slower, patting his shoulder before gently urging him to leave his lord in Richard's care for a while. He looked back his king with a smile before closing the door firmly behind them, and the English sovereign allowed the relieved huff to escape his lips when he was finally alone with the earl, reaching out to lay his hand upon Robert's uninjured shoulder and carefully shake him awake.

“Robert? Wake up, I need to talk to you.”

 

***

 

Hot. Cold. Pain.

Everything seemed to be hot and cold at the same time, and Robert moved restlessly in his bed, trying to find a position he would neither sweat nor freeze in. Maybe, the sharp pain in his left side would go away then, as well, and Robert groaned in his feverish dreams when a new wave of pain shot through his arm because someone was pulling at his other side all of a sudden. It was only a small and very gentle movement, but it hurt nonetheless, and the young earl let out another groan and forced his hurting eyes open.

Robert blinked when he saw Richard the Lionheart sitting beside his bed, and he struggled to get into an upright position because it wasn't appropriate to lie in the king's presence. Every single bone in his body screamed in protest as he tried to sit up, and the strong and calloused hand that had shaken him just one minute ago now gently pressed him down again. “Shsh, don't do that, Robert, there is no need for you to strain yourself like that.” The older man bent to the side to take the wooden mug filled with some beverage and hold it against Robert's dry lips while slowly lifting his head up with the other arm.

“But, you're the king and I am only...” Robert mumbled confused, briefly wondering where Brother Hilarius and his sweet Marian had gone, and why they let the English ruler serve him as if he was a simple servant. “It is not appropriate for you to serve me, your majesty!” he objected, but Richard only shook his head. “I came here as your friend Richard and not as the King of England, Robert. You saved my life and are suffering because of your great feast, helping you to drink something is really a small reward for that, Robert. So please accept my services - which are the services of a grateful friend owing you his life - and stop fighting, it will only make your fever getting worse.”

Richard's voice was deadly serious, and Robert relaxed and sipped from the still warm beverage. It was one of the monk's special brews, some herbals sweetened with honey, and Robert felt a little bit better when he had quenched his thirst. The tea also seemed to help against his dizziness and the slight nausea his efforts had aroused in him, only the throbbing behind his temples stayed the same. Maybe, it would fade after some time had passed, and the dark-haired knight was grateful that he didn't need to sit up.

Robert of Lindelborn sighed with relief when the king lowered him down onto the pillow after he had emptied the mug, his eyes darting around in the attempt to find the one he craved for so badly.

Richard Plantagenet huffed a short laugh. “I took the freedom of giving your first squire the order of moving his legs a little bit and catch some fresh air and sunlight, my dear eagle. He will come back to you, and he left his love and his heart in this room.”

“I see. I have to thank you then, sire. This is exactly what Marian needs, and I am probably not mistaken if I guess that you also gave some orders that will grant Brother Hilarius getting some much needed rest, as well. I might be sick and injured, but it didn't slip my attention how tired and exhausted the dear brother looked the last time I was awake,” Robert remarked, the liquid thinning his blood and easing his pain making him feel marginally better.

“Yes, I did. Brother Hilarius will get some hours of undisturbed sleep, a proper meal and a bath that will hopefully make the soreness in his bones go away. I wanted to talk to you undisturbed, and granting those who see to you with such devotion some time for themselves was the best way to let that happen.” Richard gazed down at him, and there was strictness visible in his eyes that didn't replace the friendliness, but proved to Robert that their talk wouldn't be a nice talk about the sunny weather.

“Of course, sire, I will do my very best to listen carefully to you,” the young earl replied stiffly, and Richard pursed his lips with something akin to annoyance. “It's Richard for you when we're alone, don't make me repeat myself all of the time just because of your stubbornness, Robert of Lindelborn!”

Robert swallowed, but a small smile tugged at his mouth. “Fair enough – Richard. I feel honored that you consider me worthy enough to be your friend and call you by your birth name.”

“More than worthy, believe me, Robert. You are the proud and strong eagle that has defeated the ugly vulture to protect the lion when he couldn't do that himself, and you didn't only save my life, but also most likely avoided the breakout of a horrible war between my country and yours with your brave deed. I am more sorry for being responsible for your injury than I can tell you, and this regardless of not having had any say in that and not having gotten the chance to avoid these terrible happenings.”

“It is my duty to protect you, Richard, and it is the one duty I am seeing to with pride, happiness and devotion instead of just some sense of ownership. It is my honor and my pleasure, and I would do it again without thinking,” Robert said, his voice firm and strong.

The king returned his smile. “Yes, I know that, Robert.” He paused for a moment, observing Robert's pale features. “Your injury is healing properly, and it can't be the reason for your bad shape and your fever. I think I know what's troubling you so much that you became sick, there is another concern weighing heavily on your mind and shoulders, isn't it?”

Robert dropped his gaze, fiddling with the corner of his blanket. The English monarch waited patiently, and the dark-haired earl finally sighed. “The marriage. I know that I should feel honored to become the husband of one of your nieces, and of course, I always knew that I would have to marry one day, but I lad always hoped that I could choose my wife myself. The mere thought of having to marry the daughter of Duke Heinrich...” His voice broke at the end, and Robert clenched his fingers around the covers, the pain in his shoulder distracting him from the ache in his heart.

“I thought so. Please let me assure you that there is no need for you to worry. I will find a way to make this arranged marriage impossible. I suggested Richenza for some special reason, and I am convinced that you actually having to marry her will never happen. It wasn't my doing, but Heinrich's, and you don't need to worry about that anymore, Robert.”

The younger man blinked, eventually daring to meet Richard's eyes again. “But why would you do that, Richard? You'd have to pay so much more money then!”

The king smiled, but this time, it was a grim and predatory smile. “But that's exactly what Heinrich actually wants and prefers, Robert. He wanted me to support his campaign, but I'll need all of my men and their weapons for my own battles. Philipp would try to take my territories the minute I had bared them of my soldiers, and I simply can't risk that. Heinrich knew that quite well when he demanded my support in exchange for my freedom. The money will hurt, that's true, but paying it will hurt much less than me having to fight a war that isn't mine at all would hurt me and my subjects. Heinrich might consider you as his trustworthy and loyal knight, but he doesn't really care about your happiness and well-being. He will shrug his shoulder and not bother to find you another appropriate wife any longer if he'll get my money instead. The money that will make it possible for him to buy the men and weapons he'll need for his campaign against Sicily.”

Robert chewed on his lip, not sure what to answer to that. “But, you have to think of your own people, Richard. I cannot ask you to do that for me.”

“You're not asking, Robert. I'm offering that to you myself. It's the lesser of two big evils, believe me. Heinrich wants the money, and paying it will grant me that I won't have to fight against him after my release. I'm doing that not only for you, but also for myself, even though I owe you my life and far more than only that.  
As I said before, your feast has avoided a war that would have cost much more than only money. So will you please stop fretting about something you don't have to fret about and focus on your recovery? Marian is out of his mind with his worries about your well-being, and Brother Hilarius has used up all of his strength over the past days, staying awake almost twenty-four hours a day and never pausing in his care. We need you well and healthy again – I need you well and healthy again.  
Fight against your fever and concentrate on your recovery, that's all I'm asking from you. Your faithful companion Thunder needs you. I have sent Blondel for bringing the equerry to you. I think that him telling you about Thunder's progressing recovery will help reviving your spirits. Your Arab needs you to ride him again.”

Robert felt humble and deeply touched by the king's words. He realized that he hadn't really fought against his sickness, using his fever and his almost permanent sleeping state as some kind of hiding place where he could forget Heinrich's decision to force him into this hated arranged marriage, and he felt ashamed about his behavior that wasn't the behavior of a brave fighter. So many people depended on him, and he had let them down because he had been to cowardly to deal with his fears and his anger about the sometimes cruel reality of politics.

“I will fight against this fever and do everything I can do to accelerate my recovery. You're right, I'm craving to sit on the back of Thunder again, and most of all, I'm craving to be up on my feet again,” he said hoarsely, grateful that Richard Plantagenet had spoken that openly to him. “I will face whatever fate has chosen for me like the grown-up man I consider myself to be and not dwell in self-pity and hide myself behind my sickness any longer. Would you please help me sitting up, Richard? I am tired of lying here in my bed helplessly like a baby.”

The king nodded with a contented smile. “Of course, my friend. I am pleased to see that the eagle has found his will to live again. Now, I am sure that his wings will heal and that the king of the skies will eventually spread them to fly again. You are loved and cherished by a lot of people, Robert of Lindelborn, don't you forget that.”

Robert sat upright with a strained but honest smile as the king gently lifted him up. “You're right, Richard, thank you. I won't forget that, never again, I promise you.”

Both men looked at each other for a moment, words no longer needed between them. When the quiet knock on the door announced the arrival of Nuri wanting to tell him about his beloved horse, Robert of Lindelborn with the honorable nickname eagle raised his chin and straightened his shoulders, and his voice sounded firm and clear as he called to the welcomed visitor: “Come in!”

The dark-haired earl felt new strength floating his system, and he squeezed the king's warm fingers with gratitude for a short moment, knowing that Richard Plantagenet had saved the eagle as much as he himself had saved the lion, their fates interwoven for the rest of their lives, no matter where their paths would lead them in the future.

 

_This picture is posted in 'The Treasure Of Castle Trifels', as well, but I wanted to include the old church that had once belonged to the abbey of Eußerthal. This is the church where Brother Hilarius has said his prayers and sung the chorales praising his beloved Almighty God._

  



	34. End Of July 1193: Nuri's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nuri visits his half-brother Robert on his sick-bed, and Blondel is there to help him through his inner turmoil after his visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Arrested, sorry it took me so long for this update, I needed to find my way back to this story and I hope you won't mind my open words underneath. <33
> 
> My dear readers, I started this story for an amazing writer who helped me through some dark hours with their wonderful tales, keeping me from just deleting my account when I was totally discouraged because of the lack of feedback to my stories, because I really wanted to follow their stories as a user and not only a guest. I promised Arrested to finish this story, and I will keep my promise, but I would be really deeply grateful for you supporting me more along the way.
> 
> This story gets normally about 100 hits for each chapter on a regular basis, sometimes more, sometimes a little less, but there seem to be a lot of you who are following this story faithfully. 
> 
> Unfortunately, there is no real proof that you like it except for the constant number of hits. The last 20 chapters have maybe gotten 15 kudos together, and the comments come only from my most faithful readers. Half of this story has gotten not one single kudo for a new update and only few comments under the new chapters. Most of the chapters of this story are truly long ones with 4000 words and more, and I need an entire day to write and post them, about seven or eight hours and more. This is pretty much, and you're getting the stories posted here for free, would it really hurt to press the kudos button or leave a short comment for me to show me that you appreciate what I am doing for you?
> 
> Even Richard's and Erik's first time has gotten only little feedback, and I have to admit that it really frustrates and discourages me. I don't know what it is keeping you from showing me that you like it, is it me not being likable or worthy enough to be supported, is it the story itself, because it is a historical AU, or is it you not liking the characters and finding my way of writing them not good and believable enough? 
> 
> If that would be the case, how can it be that this story gets a constant number of hits?
> 
> It really hurts to get only so little back from you, even more when I see the updates of other stories getting so much more kudos and comments. I don't think that this story or my other fics in general are so much worse than these works.
> 
> So please, if there is anyone out there still interested in this story and enjoying it, please show me and leave kudos and comments for me, I really need your feedback and support for this story, it is so hard to write such a demanding WIP, to do the research to stay accurate and develop the plot without any help and encouragment coming from you.
> 
> A million thanks to all of you who will do, you would really make me so happy with your feedback, this story is close to my heart and I hope that you like it at least a little bit. <33

Nuri felt nervous and unsure when he knocked on the door to Lord Lindelborn's private chambers, but he was also excited about seeing his half-brother again, and he rubbed his sweaty hands against his breeches for the fifth time to dry them.

Blondel had told him what he knew himself about Robert's state, and Nuri was deeply worried about the fever his older brother had developed. The mere thought of losing Robert before he could tell him who he was formed a huge lump in his throat, and he drew in a shaky breath and straightened his shoulders to not show his inner turmoil when he pressed the door handle and pushed the door open.

The young equerry stopped in the doorway when he realized that the English monarch was still sitting beside Robert's bed, but King Richard beckoned him to come in with a friendly smile that calmed the dark-haired man down a little bit.

“Nuri, please come in. We have already waited for you!” Robert greeted him, and Nuri's knees buckled with relief at the earl's surprisingly firm and strong voice. He closed the door and crossed the chamber to bow before the impressive ruler sitting in the armchair and the earl lying in the bed.

“Your majesty, I didn't mean to disturb you,” he apologized, but the king chuckled and rose to his feet in one single and elegant motion. “You didn't disturb us, equerry. On the contrary, the eagle is eager to learn the latest news about Thunder's well-being, and I will leave you alone so you can tell him how his beloved and faithful companion is doing. I'll see you later again, Robert, don't strain yourself, and don't worry too much. I'll expect you make sure that the eagle won't overdo it, Nuri.”

“Of course, your majesty,” Nuri murmured, watching the king leave the room with his short coat swinging around his shoulders.

“Thank you for everything, Richard,” Lord Robert called after the tall sovereign, and Richard turned around and smiled at the younger man with honest affection. “You're welcome, Robert. Please stay with the eagle until Lord Robert's young squire will return, Nuri. You don't need to worry about your horses, Blondel will stay with them until your return.”

Nuri bowed again. “Of course, your majesty, as you wish.”

“Sire will do fine in private, Nuri. I know that White Arrow is in the best hands possible in your stables.”

“He is, sire. Horses are the better companions oftentimes,” Nuri replied without thinking, pulling an amused chuckle from both other men with his statement.

“You're so right with that, equerry,” Richard agreed with a smile before finally leaving the bedchamber and Nuri alone with the earl.

Nuri turned around to gaze down at the knight sitting in his bed leaned against the headboard. Robert looked pale and exhausted, and his injury and the fever had carved some lines into the smooth skin of his forehead and around his eyes and left dark shadows under them, but his half-brother smiled at him, and his blue eyes were clear and sharp when he pointed at the now vacant chair.

“Please make yourself comfortable, Nuri. I don't want having to stare up at you during our talk the entire time,” the earl chided him gently when Nuri didn't sit down, too confused and overwhelmed by his feelings to react to his wordless invitation.

The young equerry blushed and slumped down on the chair. “I'm sorry,” he mumbled, clearing his throat. He wanted to take Robert's hand and squeeze it, he wanted to embrace his brother and see for himself that the last member of his little family was alive and would be fine again, but he didn't give in to his urge, just clenched his hands in his lap instead.

“What's wrong, Nuri? Did something happen to Thunder?” asked Robert, his expression changing from friendly to concerned, and Nuri realized how his behavior must look to the young earl. Robert didn't know that they were siblings, that they shared the same father, and he'd better pull himself together and behaved like it was expected from him as the emperor's equerry.

“No, Thunder is fine, Lord Robert. He is much better and his hoof has healed almost completely. I started to train him in the courtyard again, only some light practices with the lunge, and he didn't limp and seemed eager to be ridden again,” he hastened to assure his half-brother, and Robert relaxed visible and smiled wistfully.

“It will take some time until I will be able to do that again,” he sighed, cocking his head to the side. “I would be most grateful if you would ride him until I will be able to do that again, Nuri.”

Nuri blinked, opening and closing his mouth several times. “You want me to ride Thunder?” he stammered when he had found his tongue again. Robert frowned and shifted his weight to find a more comfortable position. “Would you please push the cushion back in place, Nuri? I'm still too stiff to do that myself.”

“Of course, my lord.” Nuri bent forward to put the pillow back where it belonged, and he had to close his eyes for a moment to keep himself from embracing his brother and confess everything to him when Robert's scent filled his nose and his warmth seeped through Nuri's clothing - his secret about their father and his forbidden love for Nuri's mother as much as his own deep love for his sibling.

Nuri's sense of smell was very sensitive due to his profession, and he smelled Robert's sickness, his fever and the evaporations of his healing injury, but there was also Robert's unique scent detectable under the strong smell of illness, the scent of a strong man and warrior in his best age. Nuri inhaled it deeply and eagerly, imagining that their father must have smelled similar like Robert did.

“Thank you, Nuri, this is much better.” Robert leaned back again with a relieved exhale, and the short and precious moment was over and Nuri dropped back onto his own seat with a lump in his throat. “It was my honor, my lord.”

“Oh, please stop calling me 'my lord' all of the time, Nuri,” Robert exclaimed, “I thought that we had become friends. It's tiring and exhausting enough to keep up appearances in public all of the time, but we're alone and no one's there to disturb us, so will you please stop being so formal?”

Nuri felt a deep blush creep into his cheeks, and he bit his lip, his heart hammering in his chest. Robert wouldn't be so kind and still consider him a friend if he knew about his secret, but he couldn't suppress the stupid joy he felt hearing his brother call him his friend.

“We are friends, Robert,” he replied hoarsely, “but I know my place and would never call you by your birth name without your permission.”

“I already gave you my permission before I left the castle last month,” Robert grumbled, huffing in annoyance and dismay. “Has it really been a month? I can hardly believe it!”

Nuri swallowed. “Yes, Robert. We were all so deeply worried about your inexplicable absence and silence, and Thunder missed you just as much. I will ride him if you really want me to do that.”

Robert reached out to squeeze his hand and Nuri held his breath, savoring the brief touch with tears burning in his eyes. “You are the only one I trust with my beloved stallion, Nuri. I wouldn't let anybody else take care of him. Will you do me the favor and ride him until I'll be able to do that myself again? It would really mean a lot to me.”

“Of course I will, Robert!” Nuri promised him happily, his brother's trust touching him more than he wanted to admit. “I will take good care of him.”

“I know that, Nuri, I can see how much you love him. Plus, Thunder loves and trusts you as well, and I am grateful that he does because the mere thought of him suffering without someone he likes taking care of him is simply unbearable.”

“You don't need to worry that this will happen, Robert,” Nuri said, his voice firm and sincere, and Robert nodded and relaxed visibly. “I'm tired but I have slept more than enough within the last days, so please tell me how you have been over the last month, Nuri,” he asked, and the young equerry was all to happy to obey and tell him about the daily life in the castle during Robert's absence.

His brother listened attentive to him, his blue eyes sparkling whenever Nuri told him something funny, and the lines around his eyes and on his forehead softened a little bit as time went by. Nuri longed to learn more about his injury and the things that had happened during their journey to Worms - to learn why King Richard called him 'eagle' - but he didn't want to arouse painful memories and didn't ask his brother how he had become injured, too grateful and happy that his older sibling seemed to be in much better shape than he had been when he had entered the room.

The knock on the door interrupted them just when Robert's eyelids started to drop, and Nuri bent forward to brush a soft kiss onto his temple before rising to his feet and walking to the door. Robert mumbled something in his slumber and Nuri shot one last glance back at him before he opened the door for the newcomer who could only be Robert's first squire and young lover Marian.

“Sleep well, brother. I love you,” Nuri whispered almost inaudible, hoping that he would be allowed to say these words aloud one day.

 

***

 

Blondel awaited him in the stables when Nuri returned to his duties, lost in his thoughts and in a strange and melancholic mood.

The blond minstrel didn't ask nosy questions, only offered a gentle and understanding smile and jerked his head in the direction of Thunder's box. “He is grumpy ever since you left him. It must have something to do with your hair color. Thunder likes humans with black hair better, probably because his fur is black as well,” he stated, pulling the halfway annoyed and halfway amused snort from the equerry he had apparently wanted to provoke.

“I am sure that Thunder is grumpy because he had to listen to your singing all the while. You surely tortured him with your rather poor attempts at singing Minnelieds,” Nuri retorted, pulling a theatrical sigh from his friend and confident. Blondel pressed his right hand against his chest and covered his eyes with his left hand with a feigned sob, pretending to be deeply wounded because of Nuri's lack of delicacy of feeling.

“How can you say that? My singing has enchanted kings and queens, and I am sure that my singing is what healed Thunder's hoof! I went to great lengths to help him, and I am convinced that he appreciated my efforts opposite to you, you philistine!”

Nuri shook his head as he entered the box with a chuckle, patting Thunder's shining black neck. His laughter bubbled out of him uncontrollably, just to turn into heavy sobs all of a sudden, and the young man buried his face in Thunder's mane and started to cry while the horse stood perfectly still, snorting softly into his ear.

He was vaguely aware of Blondel closing the door of the box behind them and wrapping his arm around him to gently stroke his hair. The minstrel didn't talk to him, just kept stroking his hair until the desperate sobs finally subsided. Blondel gently turned him around until Nuri faced him, tenderly wiping the tears from his face with his thumb.

“Feeling any better now?” he asked, and Nuri nodded but kept his head lowered down, unable to meet Blondel's questioning gaze.

The bard sighed. “Thunder, be a good boy and turn around please, your friend here needs some comfort without being watched,” he said, and the black Arab actually turned around and went over to the feed trough to nibble at the fresh hay.

Blondel hummed contentedly and pushed Nuri against the wooden wall of the box, in the corner where no one would see them. “Mars, what are you doing?” the equerry demanded, just to be silenced by a pair of ardent lips. Nuri had no strength left to fight against the other man, and he actually didn't want to fight, because Blondel's kiss felt too good and was just what he needed right now.

“Don't think, just feel, Nuri,” Blondel murmured against his lips, and Nuri relaxed in his arms and closed his eyes, surrendering to the sensations Blondel's passionate kiss aroused in him. Blondel's fingers carded gently through his hair while he licked with his tongue over Nuri's lips until the younger man opened them for him. He pushed in and explored Nuri's mouth as if it was the first time he did so, stroking and caressing every spot he could reach, and Nuri let him claim and conquer his mouth, returning the kiss with something akin to despair. The young equerry laid all of his emotions into their kiss, letting them flow freely, and his grip around Blondel's neck was as fierce and passionate as Blondel's grip was. His head was spinning from the lack of air by the time Blondel released his swollen lips to lick and suckle at his throat instead, and Nuri tilted his head back and bit his lip to suppress the needy whimpers that wanted to break free.

Their ardent kiss had woken his manhood up, and the proof of his utter maleness twitched in its tight prison, craving to be liberated and caressed. The blond bard growled pleased when he felt Nuri rubbing himself against his slim body, and he snaked his right hand between them and unfastened Nuri's breeches one-handed with great skills that proved that he had done that before more than only once.

“We shouldn't do that here...” Nuri gasped out in a last feeble attempt to be reasonable, but Blondel shut him up with another kiss. “No one is here except for Thunder, and this intelligent and beautiful horse is well-behaved enough to not watch us because he knows that you need this. He won't tell it to anyone, so stop thinking and just enjoy the ride, equerry!” the minstrel growled ardently, and Nuri snickered breathlessly and arched his hips into the touch when Blondel freed his steel-hard member and started to stroke him as skillfully as he had opened his breeches.

“Oh god, yes don't stop!” he moaned into their ardent kiss, shivering when Blondel teased the wet tip of his throbbing manhood with his thumb, the same thumb that had wiped his tears away that tenderly. “I won't stop, Nuri, I'll take care of you.” Blondel's voice was as warm and tender as his fingers were, and Nuri drew in a shaky breath and buried his face on his shoulder. “I'm sorry, Mars, your singing is wonderful, I didn't mean to be rude...”

“I know, my friend, I know. I wanted you to tease me, there is no need to be sorry for anything,” the blond minstrel assured the exhausted young man, his strokes becoming faster just like Nuri needed it now. “I'm here for you, just let go.”

Nuri clung to the older one's back, his body trembling with need and desire, fire pooling in his groin and erasing every coherent thought. Blondel's hand around his aching arousal felt so good, the steady strokes bringing him closer to the edge with every up and down. Nuri muffled his husky moans and loud gasps in Blondel's tunic, and he didn't feel the hard wood of the wall pressing into his back, all he felt was the lust the bard's caresses evoked in him. The dark-haired equerry was grateful for the moment of forgetting his friend granted him, and he focused on his feelings and pushed his worries and fears back into the farthest corner of his mind. They would come back and haunt him again, but he would deal with them when he had gathered new strength and rested a little bit, not now.

“You feel so good, handsome, you have no idea how good you feel, so warm and hard and yet so soft,” Blondel whispered, his lips traveling over Nuri's fragrant hair. “I love doing that for you, I love turning you in a panting and quivering mess, making you beg for my touch.”

“I don't beg!” Nuri snarled indignantly, but it came out more as a breathless groan, and it sounded suspiciously like a plea. Blondel chuckled, smearing the droplets he had already milked from Nuri's proud spear all over the engorged head.

“Shall I give you proof of how easily I can make you beg?” the annoying bard laughed, nipping with his teeth at Nuri's earlobe. Nuri groaned again. He knew what Blondel wanted to achieve, making him forget his grief and his worries with his teasing, and he couldn't really be angry with him. “If you want to, minstrel. Just remember that I can easily make you beg as well.”

“Hm, you could be right with that,” Blondel mused, pulling gently at his hair. “I should better not challenge you then, handsome.” Nuri obeyed the unspoken request and raised his head for the kiss Blondel wanted to give him. “Mars, please, I need...”

“I know, handsome.” Blondel's tongue pushed into his mouth again, imitating the act of lovemaking and the skilled bard matched his strokes with the thrusts of his tongue, his only goal now to make Nuri come and satisfy him completely.

“Let go for me, handsome, please, I need you to.” Blondel's gentle plea pushed Nuri over the edge without warning, his ecstasy spilling warm and wet over the tender fingers stroking him through his height. It was a relief to let go and forget everything, to just feel and savor the precious moment.

The minstrel - who had once been a stranger not long ago, but was now his best friend and the one Nuri could tell everything – caressed him until the young equerry was totally spent, whispering tender words against his lips and stroking his stubbly cheek with his free hand. Nuri inhaled with a strangled sob and slumped against him, limp and pliant, trusting the older man that he would hold him and support him until he could stand on his own two feet again.

For a while they just stood there leaned against each other until Blondel pulled his hand away to clean it with the straw laid out in the box. “I should take care of you, Mars.” Nuri said as he watched the blond bringing his clothing back in order.

“No, you shouldn't, handsome. This was about you and not about me, and I've found my pleasure in yours. I will take you up on your offer tonight. Thunder needs you more than I do now.” Blondel winked at him with a smile.

Nuri embraced his friend and kissed him on his cheek. “Thank you, my friend, I really needed this. Both, the tears and what you did afterwards.”

“That's what friends are for, aren't they?” Blondel gave back, his serious voice changing to mischievous again. “I expect you to endure my singing without objection while we clear away the dung, equerry.”

Nuri grinned, the heavy weight taken from his shoulders. “We will see, minstrel. But there is something else I want to do with you first. Lord Robert asked me to ride Thunder until he is well enough to do that himself, and I remember your promise to a certain fox-colored lady that you would see to her today. What do you think of riding her instead of using the lunge?”

Nuri was sure that he would never forget the expression of pure bliss and joy in Blondel's amber-golden eyes when he looked at him with his jaw dropped open. “You'll let me ride Summerwind?” Blondel's voice trembled, and Nuri could see that his friend feared that he would take his offer back and tell him that it had only been a joke.

“Of course, Mars. Her heart belongs to you anyway, and Sir Walter is too busied to go on riding with her on a regular basis. I could take her with me, holding her reins but I'd rather prefer you to ride her instead. You are allowed to leave the castle for a while, you are not a prisoner any longer, right?”

Blondel nodded. “Sir Walter talked to me the other day and assured me that I am allowed to leave the castle. I only need to inform my king about my absence.”

Nuri nodded. “Just do it, Mars. I'll wait here for you.”

Blondel's jaw worked and Nuri could see tears glistening in his eyes as he struggled for words before he just turned around to leave the box and disappear into the corridor.

Nuri waited until he was out of sight, turning around to Thunder and patting his neck. “Your owner will ride you soon again, my friend,” he promised, “will you accept me as his substitute until he can do that again?”

Thunder eyed him with his beautiful brown eyes and snorted softly, moving his head up and down in a surprisingly humanly nod. Nuri laughed and took the bridle from its hook.

“Alright, my beautiful boy, let's go for a ride!”

 

_This is an ancient crane to be seen in the ruins of the Dahner Burgengruppe. Our ancestors were truly great and skilled builders._

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> July has finally come to an end, I thought Nuri's encounter with his half-brother to be a good end for this eventful month. There will be new adventures awaiting our boys in August, introducing a new character as well, I hope that you will visit them in Castle Trifels again. <33


	35. August 1193: Summer Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> August has come and brought sun and heat, making everyone suffer, but Erik and Marian have a plan to make at least their admired Lord Robert finally feel better...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took me so long to update this story, and it is probably only a filler chapter - even though a long one - but I needed to let July come to an end, and the heat over the last days has 'inspired' me to this chapter. It is also some kind of bridge to the next ones, I hope it won't be too boring to read. <33

July had finally come to an end, and the following month that was named after one of the greatest emperors of the world - who was still so well known even after more than thousand years – brought more heat and sun, making everyone living in Castle Trifels groan and search for a quiet place somewhere in the shadows of one of the buildings or the few trees within them.

Erik was too happy about his beloved king's return to complain about the heat and the permanent thirsty feeling the red dust covering everything aroused, and he saw to his duties with a smile on his face and a cheerful melody on his lips.

Richard the Lionheart had spent the last years in the heat of Palestine and the lands bordering to the Mediterranean Sea, and Erik never heard any complaint about the heat or the dust coming from the tall English sovereign either.

The royal hostage endured his captivity with dignity and stoic calmness, and Erik admired him for his demeanor and his willingness to sit on a chair beside Lord Robert's bed for hours instead of demanding comfort and services for himself. Whatever it was his beloved lionheart had said to his life-savior on this special day a couple of weeks ago, it had accelerated the young earl's recovery, and Erik was deeply grateful for that.

But Robert's wound had been deep and severe, and he was still weak and tired much faster than before his injury. The heat made him suffer even more, the bandage he still needed to protect his injury scratching over the scab of the wound and the still sensitive new skin, and Marian and Erik did their best to distract their lord and comfort him, ignoring his grumpy complaints and harsh words as best as they could.

Brother Hilarius had left the castle one week ago when it had been clear that Robert would recover fully from his injury and that it would only take more time that the dark-haired knight would like it to take, having to see to two of his brethren in Eußerthal who had become severely sick.

Erik and especially Marian missed the kind monk deeply, but Brother Hilarius had promised to visit them again and he had left detailed instructions for the earl's treatment. Both of the two young squires were careful to stick to these instructions and do exactly what Brother Hilarius had written upon the parchment in his beautiful handwriting, but Robert showed the same behavior every child and every man recovering from a sickness or injury in the entire world showed, being in a foul mood and behaving childishly every time one of them saw to the bandage or held the mug with the herbal brews to his lips.

It had become worse and worse over the last two days, and King Richard had finally run out of his astonishing patience and ordered Erik and Marian to leave the bedchamber and enjoy the fresh breeze the late afternoon had brought.

“Don't worry about the eagle, he will be fine. He just has to learn some things about how to treat those trying to help him, and how to endure unpleasant things with the from a tough knight expected dignity,” the impressive monarch had said when Marian had opened his mouth to protest that nursing a grumpy lord was nothing a king should do himself, and Erik had had to suppress a gleeful chuckle when he had seen the terrified look on Lord Robert's face by Richard's announcement.

The young squire with the light-brown hair and the handsome features was grateful and relieved that Richard's stern look and his annoyance weren't directed at him, and he almost pitied his admired and beloved lord, as he now strolled through the blooming garden together with Marian - but only almost. The Earl of Lindelborn had tested Marian's and his own patience more than only once within the last days, and he really deserved what he was getting now: King Richard's strict hand and his preach about showing the appropriate gratitude and behavior towards those who cared about him and endured his foul mood while trying to nurse him back to health and comfort him.

“Am I evil or mean when I say that I am glad that his majesty took matters in his own hands and that I am grateful for one or two peaceful hours here in the garden, Erik?”

Marian's subdued question pulled Erik out of his musings, and he looked to the side to smile at his best friend. They had undressed their tunics and rolled up the sleeves of their linen shirts, and Erik didn't care about them not being dressed properly, it was simply still too hot to care about their outer appearances. He knew that his beloved king and Sir Walter cared more about their health than about their clothes as well, and apart from that, everyone living in Castle Trifels tried to wear as little clothes as only possible without going halfway naked these days. The emperor wasn't there to take offense at their casual way of dressing, and most of the other aristocratic guests had left the Trifels together with him.

There were only a few noblemen left with their families, Erik's sister Lisa and her husband Fabian for example, as well as Sir Wilhelm of Blumenstein with his family and three or four other barons and lords. A king needed a 'proper' court, even if the king was the hostage of another, more powerful ruler, and Emperor Heinrich had ordered Sir Walter to see to an appropriate court for his royal hostage before he had left Castle Trifels.

Erik knew that Richard didn't really care about a court that meant nothing to him – the noblemen had sworn the oath of allegiance to Heinrich and not him, but he had thanked Sir Walter with real honesty and sincerity for having chosen the most bearable ones among all those arrogant and impudent noblemen.

There were also some young knights belonging to the castle-guards, but none of them would say anything to Marian and him walking around with rolled up sleeves and without wearing a tunic.

“No, you're neither mean, nor evil, Marian,” Erik assured his friend now, reaching out to pat his shoulder in a comforting gesture. “Lord Robert is still in pain and annoyed about his immobility, so please don't think too much about his grumpy words. He didn't mean to hurt you, he's mostly angry with himself, I guess.”

Marian sighed, but he looked consoled. “Yes, he is. He's been missing Thunder so much, and even though he was the one asking Nuri to ride his beloved stallion, but I think that he feels a little bit jealous that Thunder and Nuri get along with each other so well.”

Erik nodded his head. “That's understandable. Lord Robert is still not well enough to ride him, but I do believe that a visit in the stables wouldn't do too much damage to his wound. It's healing pretty well, and a short walk in the early evening when it is not that hot any longer will surely do him a world of good. What do you think, Marian? You know him better than I do.”

The shorter brunet beamed at him. “That's a great idea, Erik. It would be good for Thunder as well. Nuri told me that he misses Lord Robert deeply. His hoof has healed, but Thunder sometimes refuses to eat. Blondel is the only one who is able to bribe him into eating his oat with his singing when he's grieving about his beloved master's long absence, but even this doesn't work every time he tries it.”

Erik smiled and shaded his eyes with his hand as he craned his neck to look at the deep blue sky. “Two more hours until the sun will start to set,” he said, “it should be cool enough then to give it a try.”

Marian bounced up and down on his feet, clearly excited about their plan to help their lord and his faithful companion to finally see each other again. “Let us go to the stables right away, I want to tell Nuri what we want to do!” He pulled at Erik's arm, unable to remain patient any longer, and Erik chuckled and let himself be pulled in the direction of the stables, forgetting the heat and the burning sun completely as he followed his eager friend. Marian was finally smiling again, and he hoped that his beloved king would approve their plan and help them bringing the eagle to his horse later.

King Richard loved his white stallion as much as Robert loved Thunder, and he would hopefully agree with them that this reunion could be a good way to revive not only the young earl's spirits but also Thunder's spirits again Erik thought as he followed Marian into the luckily a little bit cooler building where the horses lived under Nuri's skillful care.

It would still take at least a few weeks until Lord Robert could ride his black Arab again, but spending some time together would give him the last incentive he needed to get well as soon as possible again, and Erik found himself humming a cheerful melody again when they turned around the corner and the large boxes for the precious Arabs came in sight. It was the melody of a sweet song that was about first love and the happiness that came with it, the perfect song for a young squire who was deeply in love for the first time with the most wonderful man Erik had ever met.

 

***

 

“It's only a few more meters, my lord Robert!” Marian said three hours later when he, Erik, King Richard and his beloved lord crossed the still incredibly hot yard to enter the cooler stables. Nuri had promised them to be there and get Thunder ready for the earl's first visit after the long weeks of his recovery, and the English monarch had pursed his lips and thought about their plan for a long moment but finally agreed and decided to come with them to make sure that Robert would get the support he needed for the for him still rather long walk.

The dark-haired earl had been up for a few hours and walking around his rooms on a regular basis for several days by now, but they hadn't dared to bring him outside because of the heat, fearing that he would collapse and damage the healing wound if they did.

It was still hot and dusty, and Marian was grateful for the wet cloth Oscar had been foresighted enough to catch for them on their way, wiping Robert's sweaty forehead with it every other minute. The man he loved with every fiber of his being was pale and his features were still sunken, but the heat and the prospect of seeing his beloved horse had brought some color back into his face, and Marian gently dabbed Robert's face and neck again before wiping the sweat out of his own eyes with the hem of his shirt.

King Richard walked closely behind them to catch the younger man in case that he lost his balance because of a sudden dizziness, and Marian felt a lump in his throat when he noticed his brief but gentle smile the English monarch gifted Robert with. The young squire knew that he shouldn't be so surprised about the king's for a powerful ruler unusual behavior after all they had been through together, but it still amazed him that the great Richard the Lionheart cared enough about a young earl to volunteer as his guard and caretaker.

The other residents of the castle had already gotten used to their royal guest's way of handling things, and none of the few servants heading over the yard gave them more than a quick sidelong glance. The Earl of Lindelborn was well respected and liked, among Sir Walter's charges and servants, and they obviously didn't want to embarrass him by staring at him while he slowly shuffled over the dry and hot sand covering the stony yard after the long dryness. Erik and Marian shielded him from both sides while Oscar had gone to the stables after handing the cloth to Marian to announce the earl's soon arrival.

“I didn't know that a few meters could be so long,” Robert ground out, but his statement didn't sound like another grumpy complaint, but more like astonishment about how natural and easy everything had seemed to be before his injury.

“You're doing great, eagle, your sometimes admittedly rather annoying stubbornness has proved beneficial so far,” King Richard remarked dryly, his friendly teasing earning him an exasperated snort, but Robert sped up for the last few meters, apparently wanting to show that he was stronger than he looked like.

Erik tried to suppress a cheerful snicker but failed miserably, and his happy chuckle infected Marian who couldn't hide his own giggling any longer. He was so happy that his adored and beloved lord was strong enough to be teased like this again while he walked, and Robert's furrowed brows smoothed out when he looked at his first squire.

“I'm glad to see you laugh again, Marian. I'm so sorry about the way I treated you and Erik over the past days. I loathed myself because of my weakness, but this is no excuse for my behavior,” his earl said with a rueful expression, and Marian squeezed his hand, the last shreds of his own anger about Robert's hurtful words earlier this day melting away. “It's alright, my lord Robert. You are still in great pain even though you don't say anything about it, and I would be much grumpier than you have been if I had to lie in my bed for weeks, helpless like a little baby and so much in pain. Please don't apologize, there is really no need for that.”

Robert lifted his uninjured arm to tenderly stroke Marian's face. It was only a quick and feather-like touch, but it meant more to the young squire than a passionate kiss could have meant to him. His earl was trembling from the exertion, sweat running over his face and dripping down on his shirt, leaving dark stains on the white linen, but he had never looked more beautiful to Marian than in this moment as he now smiled tenderly and gratefully at him.

“Yes, I really need to apologize to you and to Erik as well, Marian. I can't promise to not be grumpy and childish again, but I will do my very best to not vent my anger on you anymore.”

Marian so wanted to kiss Robert, but he took a deep breath and just smiled back at his lord. “You can be as grumpy as you want to be, my lord Robert, as long as you'll feel better afterwards, it will be fine with me. The only thing that matters to me is that you will recover from your injury again and nothing else.”

Robert swallowed. “I don't deserve you, Marian, but I am so grateful and happy to have you by my side that there are no words to describe it,” he said hoarsely, and this was really all Marian needed to know.

 

***

 

The stables welcomed them with a coolness that felt like a soft and cozy blanket enclosing them, but Robert felt goosebumps form on his arms and his back where the sticky sweat of his exertion and the summer heat dried on his skin.

He couldn't suppress the slight shivers running over his shoulders and his back, and Richard walking behind him took the short red coat from his shoulders he wore as the only visible sign of his royal dignity to drape it over Robert's instead. The young earl knew that Richard mostly wore the coat for Sir Walter's sake and not for his own, because there were still some residents not recognizing Richard as the English monarch right away when they saw him in more casual clothing. But it yet felt strange to Robert, and he instinctively tried to take the deep-red velvet from his shoulders and hand it back to his royal charge without thinking.

“Don't do that, eagle. We didn't nurse you for so long to see you become sick with a cold just because you were too shy to wear a coat that will warm you only because of its color.” Richard's voice was strict but with a hint of amusement, and Robert sighed but nodded.

“As you wish, sire,” he said, knowing when he was defeated. Besides, he was actually grateful for the coat and he pulled it closer around his shoulder and sighed with relief when the chills running over his back subsided. The corridor to Thunder's box was long, but the familiar smell of hay and horses calmed Robert's mind, and the soft snorts and other sounds of the stable accelerated his pace with Robert even noticing it.

Summerwind and White Arrow craned their heads over their boxes, and Richard stopped for a moment to pat the shiny neck of his stallion. “I'll come later to you, my beautiful boy, I just need to make sure that my friend Robert can finally celebrate his reunion with his beloved Thunder,” the impressive ruler purred, and the white Arab snorted happily and rubbed his nostrils against Richard's sleeve.

Horses didn't care about titles and powers, they only cared about the way their owners treated them, and every horse Robert knew would choose the one treating it with kindness, love and respect over the one treating them poorly, no matter whether they were of royal origin, a simple citizen, a stable boy or a slave. White Arrow didn't love his owner because he was a king, but only because Richard loved him the same way Robert loved his stallion Thunder, always putting the needs of his faithful companion before his own.

The unique and wistful neigh Robert had missed more than he had realized until this moment made him freeze in place before limping as fast as his feet would only carry him in the direction from where the sound had come. “Thunder!” he croaked out, his vision blurring with hot tears and then, a large black shadow bolted out of the box in front of Robert, and a warm and soft nose poked him and pressed itself against his heaving chest and brushed over his face damp face.

“Thunder!” The young earl buried his face in the thick mane of his stallion and wrapped his arms tightly around his strong neck, and the beautiful Arab stood perfectly still like a marble statue and snorted softly into his ear, sensing that his human friend needed him to stay still until he had regained his composure again.

Robert closed his eyes as he breathed in the wonderful scent of his horse, the horse that always carried him wherever he wanted to go without objection, and which never betrayed him like humans betrayed each other so often. The dark-haired knight could feel Marian's reassuring presence, but the quiet voices coming from a few meters beside him proved to him that his friends respected this for Thunder and him special moment, stepping back to give him the privacy he needed right now.

“I missed you, Thunder, I missed you so. I'm so sorry that it took me so long to come to you,” Robert whispered into the twitching black ear, and his stallion bent his elegant neck and pressed his nose against Robert's uninjured arm with a tender neigh. “Yes, you're my good boy, and I know that Nuri has taken good care of you.”

They stood like this for a while longer until Robert judged himself ready to face his companions again, slowly stepping back and lifting his head. He could see Richard and his friend Blondel standing before White Arrow's box, talking to each other, while Nuri, Erik and Oscar were busied with making a makeshift seat for him in Thunder's box out of two bales of straw. Marian smiled at him when Robert sought his gaze, putting his arm around his midsection to guide him to the seat.

“You need to sit down, my lord. Standing upright like this is too exhausting for you.” Everything inside the young earl screamed to protest, but he knew that Marian was right, and his knees buckled with relief when Erik and Marian carefully lowered him down onto the straw.

“Thank you, Nuri, Oscar. I really don't know why I'm still feeling that weak and exhausted,” Robert apologized, but the equerry shook his head vigorously. “You don't have to thank us, Lord Robert. Your wound was deep and the blood-loss life-threatening, everyone would feel exhausted and dizzy after such an injury. Plus, the heat is simply unbearable, just look at my horses. They all hang their heads down low and refuse to eat properly these days, they are only interested in the water I wash them with on a regular basis. Most of them would die because of painful colics if I would let them drink as much as they actually want to drink.”

Robert thanked the younger man with a grateful smile for his understanding. “You are right, Nuri, I'm feeling thirsty all of the time as well, but I am not allowed to drink cool water, my two squires and this young lad beside you torment me with hot herbal brews whenever I ask them for a mug filled with cool and delicious water,” he said, but the sparks dancing in his eyes proved to his listeners that he was only teasing them. Thunder had followed Robert back into his box, and the dark-haired earl tenderly stroked his head when his stallion neighed reproachfully because he didn't have his beloved humans undivided attention.

“I am happy to be reunited with you too, my beautiful boy,” Robert soothed him, and Thunder graciously took the carrot he handed him. Oscar had brought it to him before they had started their little journey to the stables, and the young servant with the unruly hair now grinned, exchanging knowing glances with Marian and Erik.

“With all due respect, Lord Robert, but the herbals don't taste that bad, and the brews are only warm and not hot. You will get your water when your cheeks have become rosy again, Brother Hilarius gave Sir Marian, Sir Erik and me strict orders to not listen to your complaints because you would for sure try to weasel your way out of his treatment if we did,” Oscar retorted without showing the usual servility Robert knew from other servants and which really annoyed him. “Brother Hilarius' words, not mine, sir,” the boy added with a cheerful wink when Robert tried to scowl at him to hide his amusement.

Marian and Erik snickered at that, and Robert's pained expression softened. “Brother Hilarius knows me better than I thought then,” the earl finally admitted, turning his head to look up at Nuri. “Please sit down beside me, my friend and tell me how Thunder has been doing. It's straining for me to look up at you like this.”

The equerry blushed but obeyed, sitting down beside him on the straw bales, and Robert well noticed the quick glance Nuri exchanged with Blondel, who had come back to Thunder's box with the king. There seemed to be more between the blond bard and the ruler over the imperial stables, and Robert could only hope that Blondel wouldn't break his friend's heart, because Robert wasn't blind and knew about the minstrel's feelings for Richard the Lionheart.

Erik must know about them as well, but he had obviously become friends with Blondel during their long absence from the castle, and he looked relaxed as he now smiled at his beloved lionheart. “Do you want to sit down, sire?” he asked the English sovereign, but Richard shook his head, leaning comfortably against the wall of the box with crossed arms.

“No, thank you, Erik. I am sitting much more than I am used to these days, and standing upright for a while is a welcome change. But I could do with something to eat and to drink, so why don't you go to the kitchen and ask for a basket with a light dinner for us?” he suggested, after a meaningful glance in Robert's direction. The Earl of Lindelborn swallowed, because he knew exactly what his royal friend was doing. He hadn't had much appetite over the last days, and the tall ruler wanted him to eat, hoping that his reunion with Thunder would revive Robert's hunger.

Marian and Erik nodded eagerly, waving at Oscar to follow them. “Of course, sire, we shall hurry to bring you your dinner, Emma will surely provide us with enough food for a small company,” Erik said with a brief bow, and Richard's content and pleased expression colored the young squire's cheeks in an adorable pink.

“Thank you, Erik. Blondel and I will see to a blanket to put the food upon in the meantime,” Richard stated, gesturing at Nuri to stay seated when the young man hurried to help his royal guest. “Please stay where you are, Nuri, my friend Robert asked you to tell him about Thunder, and his well-being is my first priority. Blondel has spent enough time in your stables to know where to find what we will need for our impromptu picnic. I must admit that I look forward to having a picnic in your cool and peaceful stables, the thought of an opulent and rather official dinner in the knight's hall is not appealing to me because of the summer heat.”

Nuri slumped down on the straw again. “As you wish, your majesty. But it's not appropriate for you to do that,” he objected helplessly, and Richard gifted him with one of his rare honest smiles.

“I will let Blondel do the work if it makes you feel better, Nuri,” he smiled, “but don't think that I have been pampered on the long way to Palestine and during the crusade all of the time. Being among friends and enjoy some quality time with them just as the man Richard I hardly ever get the chance to be is a real gift, and I don't mind helping my life-savior with my services only the slightest, so don't worry about that, please.”

“Thank you, sire,” Nuri said for both of them, and Robert watched Richard and Blondel disappear around the corner to search for blankets to cover the straw with with a lump of emotion in his throat.

Richard the Lionheart was for sure an uncommon monarch, and Robert felt blessed and honored that he was allowed to call this remarkable man his friend.

 

***

 

Richard was pleased to see that his plan had worked out the way he had hoped it would one hour later. His sweet young knave had come back with Marian and Oscar carrying two large baskets with food and fresh and cool beer, Emma apparently knew what a bunch of young men and a recovering lord needed, providing them with enough bread, cold meat, cheese and fresh fruits to feed a whole company. The normally pretty scary cook had even gone so far to put three carrots into one of the baskets, together with a note that they were for the 'three beasts', the 'black devil', the 'royal mount' and the 'minstrel's lady'.

It went without saying that the 'three beasts' had crunched their unexpected treat with gracious snorts and obvious delight.

Thunder had let himself be bribed to the feed trough with the promise that his beloved human friend would stay for a while and eat and drink something himself, turning his head several times to make sure that Robert was still sitting on the straw and wouldn't leave him alone while he was eating.

Blondel stood beside him and sang for his king, his friends and the beautiful Arab while Oscar served them, and Richard ate with great appetite, the simple but delicious meal tasting so much better than all the opulent feasts he had normally to endure, and he didn't mind sitting on a straw bale together with the few people he considered as real friends, and who were faithful and honest and would never try to betray or deceive him for their own sake.

Robert's face shone rosy for the first time in weeks, and his features were no longer contorted in pain as he listened to what Nuri told him about his stallion with a smile and sparkling eyes, and Richard couldn't hide his own smile as he watched the two dark-haired men sitting next to each other on the straw. There was something familiar about them, something that struck Richard, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was that made him muse more about the handsome equerry than kings would usually think about their servants.

Marian and Erik had made themselves comfortable on the blanket at Richard's and Robert's feet, and the English ruler bent down to furtively stroke the warm cheek of the young squire he loved more than anything. Erik looked up at him with his irresistible smile that showed his dimples in all their glory, and Richard could feel the well-known desire for him make his heart beat faster and his breeches become tight. “Do you need anything, sire?” he asked quietly, and Richard regretted that he couldn't kiss his sweet young knave like he longed to do so badly.

“I'm perfectly fine, Erik. I just wanted to thank you. Your idea was the right one, the eagle looks so much better than he did just one hour ago.”

Erik's smile softened as he shot a quick look at his lord and master. It was even more breathtaking this way, and Richard realized that he wouldn't be able to sleep without showing Erik how much he loved and desired him beforehand. The last days and nights had been so hot that he had been too exhausted to only think of sharing sweat-arousing pleasures with him, but their little trip had not only revived Robert's spirits, but also his own, and Erik's beautiful hazel-green eyes darkened with desire when he looked Richard deep in the eyes again.

“You don't need to thank me, sire. I would do everything for you and Lord Robert, you really must know that by now. I actually wasn't sure if it would be too straining for him, but I could see how much he missed Thunder, and I just thought that we could at least try it. It wouldn't have been possible without you, though.”

Richard swallowed against the sudden dryness in his mouth, accepting the mug with the fresh beer Erik handed to him. He sipped from it, his eyes darting back and forth between Robert, Nuri and Marian who were still caught up in their conversation. Oscar had excused himself a couple of minutes ago to see to Robert having fresh bed-sheets after his return, and his dear friend Blondel was still singing for them, combing Thunder's mane with gentle strokes. Their eyes met for a brief moment and his minstrel and confident nodded and smiled at him, his gaze assuring Richard that Blondel didn't begrudge him his happiness.

“I wish to retire soon tonight, Erik,” Richard whispered hoarsely, and the way Erik's breathing faltered for a split second before speeding up was proof enough for him that his young knave would welcome him in his arms later tonight. “As you wish, sire.” Erik's voice sounded as husky as his own one had sounded, and the beautiful young man unconsciously licked his lips before taking the empty mug Richard gave him with trembling fingers.

The King of England - who was trapped in a foreign country and a castle that wasn't his own - leaned back against the straw with a contend smirk and closed his eyes to listen to Blondel's smooth voice for a while, knowing for sure that there was no other place he'd rather be in this moment than here in Castle Trifels, surrounded by his friends and the one wonderful and amazing being he loved more than life itself.

 

 _Castle Wilenstein sitting enthroned over the beautiful Karlstalschlucht, the home of Benedict of Wilenstein_  



	36. August 1193: Hot Summer Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard and Erik have withdrawn into their quarters after their visit in the stables, enjoying a very special bath together...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me ages to write and it is not proof-red, but I really wanted to post it tonight, I hope that there aren't too many mistakes. I really wanted Richard and Erik to have some quality time together again, there have been too little chapters and parts with Richard and Erik lately. :-)

Richard leaned back in the large wooden tub with a sigh of relief and pleasure, closing his eyes for a moment to enjoy how the fragrant water caressed his sweaty and itching skin. Erik had added some herbals when he had filled the tub with the warm water that had just the perfect temperature to cool him down without making him freeze far too soon.

The English monarch allowed his body to relax and his mind to wander around while he listened to the quiet and distant sounds his sweet young knave was making as he put away Richard's dusty and soaked clothes. Erik would come back to him soon again, but he had insisted on seeing to his duties before washing Richard, even though Richard had done his best to convince him that he could do that later.

“I don't think so, sire.” The young squire who had trapped Richard's heart with his sweet smile and his kind heart and inner beauty had lifted his chin up in a rather defiant way, gazing strictly at his king and shaking his head. “We both know that I won't be able to do that after your bath, sire, not with the way you're looking at me ever since our impromptu picnic in Nuri's stables – just as if you wanted to eat me right there and then.”

Erik had blushed at his own boldness, but he had held his ground and scowled at his beloved king as best as he could. Richard couldn't remember the last time someone else than his beloved mother had tried to tell him off like this, but it must have been long before he had become the King of England.

The impressive ruler wouldn't have thought it possible, but Erik's behavior, his with disapproval and defiance sparkling eyes and the determined set of his jaw had aroused Richard like only Erik's kisses normally did, and he had tried to grab him and pull him close to make him change his mind about his duties.

Erik of Thanstein wasn't the shy and uncertain boy he had been when Richard had first met him any longer though, and he had jerked his arm away and jumped back before Richard could pull him into the tub fully dressed.

“Oh no, your majesty! I know quite well what you're trying to do. You will behave like the strong, patient and level-headed monarch you are known as and not like a sulking child not getting the sweets it wants to have. The sooner you'll let me see to my duties, the sooner I'll be back to make up with you for the few minutes you'll have to wait for me to serve you properly while you're bathing.” Erik's cheeks had burned in the wonderful pink his beloved king was addicted to, and Richard's manhood had grown between his thighs at the sight of his young knave looking at him with a frown of displeasure and his hands put on his hips in a determined gesture.

“Your services as my squire are not what I am craving for Erik!” Richard had tried to scowl back, feeling rather silly sitting naked in the tub while Erik was standing before it fully clothed and looking like a strict teacher telling his pupil off.

“I know, Richard.” Erik's face had softened, and his smile had taken the king's breath away like it always did. “I shall hurry, sire, I want to be with you just as much – after fulfilling my duties as your manservant which I will always take seriously – regardless of what is between us,” he had promised, and Richard had finally resigned himself to his fate and nodded with an annoyed huff. “I hope so, young knave!” His bad conscience had caused him to add a rueful “and I know that you're taking your duties seriously, Erik. You are not at all like all those minions who try to use me and gain some fortune by flattering me, but I really long to feel you.”

“I will be as fast as the wind, my lionheart!” Erik's happy snicker had made him smile when he had leaned back, and the English sovereign was still smiling when he heard Erik's light footsteps coming back to him again.

They had brought Robert back to his rooms before withdrawing in Richard's royal guest quarters, and Richard was pretty sure that Robert's faithful squire Marian would distract his adored lord from his pain, his impatience and the summer heat as well tonight. Robert's cheeks had been rosy and his eyes had sparkled after their visit in the stables, and he had held his head up high on their way back.

The older warrior was relieved that his life savior and his head guard had finally found back his strong will and his stubbornness, both would help him to recover from his injury and ride his black Arab again. Richard longed to leave the castle for a while and explore the unknown land, but he had to stay in Castle Trifels as long as the Earl of Lindelborn couldn't leave it. He didn't want to escape, just take a ride now and then and maybe go for a hunt, feeling the wind and the sun on his face when he raced over the green meadows and through the thick forests of this beautiful and wild region.

“See, it didn't take that long, my impatient king.” Erik's husky voice next to his ear sent a shiver through his body, and Richard opened his eyes again to let them roam over Erik's lithe frame. His squire had stripped down to his linen shirt and his undergarments, and his hazel-green eyes were hooded with his strong desire for his king.

Sometimes, Richard still couldn't believe that this wonderful being was his, that Erik of Thanstein returned his deep and almost desperate love with every fiber of his being. They gazed at each other for a moment, looking one another deep in their eyes, and Richard raised his hand to graze Erik's flushed face with tender fingertips in rapt devotion.

“I long for you, my sweet young knave,” was all he could whisper before his voice cracked with too many emotions, and Erik's gaze became dark and tender. “I long for you too, Richard.” The young man pressed his cheek against Richard's rough and calloused palm like a small tomcat that wanted to be stroked, turning his head a little bit to kiss the warm skin. It was an innocent and sweet touch, but it fueled Richard's desire on and left him breathless and aching for more.

“Come to me, Erik, I need to feel you!” Richard murmured, and the young man drew back a little bit to hastily undress the last pieces of garment that kept him from joining his king in the large tub, the increasing of his redness proving to the older man that his young lover was still unsure about himself and their intimacy. Richard swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat when he watched Erik carefully taking the small leather bag with his love letter the young squire always wore around his neck to put it aside where it would be safe and not get wet and damaged, and the English monarch took in a deep breath to win back his self-control at least a little bit and not just drag him into the tub head first.

The air was filled with unspoken emotions and thick with pheromones, arousal and desire, and Richard balled his fists to calm himself down and give Erik the time he needed to work up the courage and join him in the bathtub.

Erik had never bathed together with him, only served him and washed him when Richard had taken a bath, shyly averting his eyes from the proud evidence of the king's utter maleness when he had handed him the towel, and he had never bathed himself when Richard had been around.

“You're so beautiful, darling, I desire you so much. Please, let me show you how much I love and desire you!” The English sovereign encouraged his beloved young knave when Erik hesitated with his hands on the waistband of his undergarments. “Let me show you how pleasurable it can be to bathe together.”

It was a new experience for Richard as well, he had always been careful to keep his distance to most people except for a few he really trusted like Blondel, not wanting to show his vulnerability and uncertainty. He had bathed together with someone else only once when he had been much younger, and he felt as nervous about this as Erik obviously felt, but his nervousness vanished when Erik climbed into the tub with a sheepish smile, pink cheeks and sparkling eyes.

The proud and normally controlled English ruler moaned ardently and pulled his prey close to his with desire and love burning body to kiss him hungrily and with unrestrained passion.

“Finally! You don't know how much I have longed to do this, young knave!” he growled at Erik's lips, and the son of the Baron of Thanstein chuckled and wrapped his arms around his neck, straddling him and rubbing his round backside against Richard's erection.

“Really?” Erik apparently had lost his shyness together with his clothes, because he grinned cheekily at his king and cocked his head to the side. “You're always so controlled and unmoved, I really think I need you to show me how much you wanted to do this, your majesty!” he challenged his king, and Richard narrowed his eyes and kissed the smug grin from his lips until Erik moaned with sheer need.

“It's Richard for you when we're alone, and you know that, my cheeky young knave! Say my name and prove to me that you haven't forgotten it since our last encounter!”

“How could I ever forget your name, my lionheart?” Erik whispered hoarsely, changing from cheeky and mischievous to passionate and wistful, “I love you more than anything, more than my own life, Richard!”

Richard's throat was too tight to answer to that, but his deep kiss showed his beloved knave that his love was returned the same way much better than words could have done, and Erik granted him access to his mouth willingly and without objection. He tasted of the beer and the fruits from their picnic, and the tall ruler eagerly licked his way around in the soft cavern while his hands started to explore and discover Erik's slim but strong body anew, searching for the spots where his beloved one would react best to his caresses.

The hardness poking against his abdomen reassured him that Erik wanted this as desperately as he wanted it, but Richard resisted the urge to touch him there, he had waited too long for this night to hurry through it now. Instead, he stroked down on Erik's shivering back to cup his round cheeks and knead them gently, and the sweet mewls and moans he got in return made him growl with ardor and contentment.

His beautiful squire squirmed in his lap in the attempt to get more friction, and the way he rubbed his most private part against his beloved king's proud spear made Richard's head spin and his vision blur.

“Need you, my lionheart, please, take me, I need you! It has been so long!” Richard drew back from Erik's swollen lips to bite down hard on his own because Erik's ardent plea threatened to make him lose the last shreds of his self-control instantly. His sweet knave had given himself to him four or five times since their first night after his return, but they had only done it in a bed and with Richard lying on top of him. The older man was aware that this position would be a challenge for Erik, and he wasn't so sure if Erik was truly ready for this new experience.

“Hush, darling, it's fine, we only need to get out of the tub...” he tried, but Erik vigorously shook his head, and his eyes were almost black with desire when he looked at him.

“No, I don't want to wait, Richard. I want you to take me here in the tub!” he demanded, the pink tip of his tongue darting out of his mouth to lick over his rosy lips. Richard only realized that he had dug his short nails into Erik's soft flesh when the younger man gasped out and flinched.

“Sorry, darling,” he whispered, kissing him and regarding him attentively. “Are you sure, Erik? I don't want to hurt you.”

Erik nodded again. “I am sure. I – I want to ride you here in the tub, my lionheart. I have secretly dreamed of doing that for days by now.” Another blush made his cheeks glow crimson red, but the young Baron of Thanstein didn't avert his eyes.

They looked at each other when Richard reached out to feel for the soap, the king's gaze locked on Erik's flushed face. His sweet young knave was so beautiful in his arousal that it almost hurt to look at him, and Richard realized that he couldn't resist him even if his life depended on it. His manhood throbbed and ached with need, his balls heavy with the seed Richard craved to pump into Erik's tight channel to claim him and mark him undoubtedly as his.

The young man shifted his weight and lifted himself up when he saw Richard coating his fingers with the soap, and both men gasped at the sensation of the king's finger slipping easily and smoothly into Erik's velvet and silken heat.

The English sovereign swallowed as he struggled to go slow and not hurt his beloved one, but Erik arched his back and started to impale himself on his finger, his own erection brushing against Richard's abdomen and chest with every move, the tip slick with Erik's overwhelming desire for his king.

The normally controlled and level-headed ruler leaned back against the tub to give his ardent lover more room, and he was sure that he could come just from watching his sweet young knave preparing himself like this, the beauty of the breathtaking sight making his blood boil in his veins.

Only his deep love for his young knave helped him to not just lose it, and the impressive and powerful monarch and crusader felt humble and blessed for the gift of Erik's unquestioning love and his will to surrender to him without ever asking to get something in return.

Richard the Lionheart had never surrendered to anyone in his life so far, he had never let any other man take him and see him vulnerable. He had caught himself musing about wanting to feel his beloved young knave deep inside him, but he wasn't ready for this ultimate sign of trust and love yet, and he was grateful that Erik didn't ask that from him, his tender smile and the understanding in his beautiful hazel-green eyes assuring Richard that he didn't need to explain and justify himself and that he was loved without having to do that.

Erik's silent understanding and his willingness to surrender to him without feeling betrayed because Richard didn't want to return the favor made the times he was allowed to possess the young man even more precious and sweeter to him, and the king was determined to make each single time Erik gave himself to him an outstanding and wonderful experience for him.

“I''m ready for more.” Erik's soft whisper at his lips pulled an ardent groan from his royal lover, and Richard's manhood twitched with impatience when he drew his finger back just to intrude the heavenly warmth with two digits instead. Erik's silken walls clenched around them but his beloved one didn't falter in his rolling motions, his handsome features suffused with the lust and passion he felt for his lionheart.

Richard had never felt more like a true lionheart than in this moment, and he knew that he would protect the young man who had won his love with his honesty and his faith and love with his own life, just like the king of the animals would protect what was his.

Erik bending his head down to search for his lips distracted him from his marveling, and Richard closed his eyes and kissed him back with all he had, imitating the act of lovemaking with his tongue as he thrust deep into the soft cavern of Erik's mouth.

“I'm ready for you, Richard,” Erik gasped out when they had to part for air again, and his with passion and desire shining eyes left no doubt that he spoke the truth. His sweet young knave wanted and needed him just as much as Richard needed him, and the king pressed the soap into Erik's hand.

“I want you to do that for me, darling, I crave to feel your hand on me before I'll make you mine again.”

Erik regarded the soap in his hand for a second and licked his lips, and both men held their breaths when the young squire stroked up and down on Richard's throbbing shaft to slick it up for their lovemaking.

Richard's desire and arousal was painful by the time Erik was finished with his tender ministration because he had drawn it out and caressed his king's proud spear longer than he would have needed to do to just line him up. His young knave had lost all of his shyness, and his hoarse words when he positioned himself in Richard's lap made the normally distinguished English sovereign moan with sheer need.

“I crave to feel your hard sword deep inside me, my beloved Richard, I long to ride you until you'll fill me with your hot seed.”

Richard wanted to tell him that he longed to do the same, but only a croaked sound came out of his mouth, and Erik snickered happily and put his hands on the king's broad shoulders to steady himself and keep his balance as he now seated himself in Richard's lap again, taking in his hard manhood with one single fluent movement.

“Erik, my darling!” Richard pulled him close and pressed him to his heaving chest for a moment because he feared that he would come with the next thrust if he didn't get at least a few seconds to regain his composure.

They were so close like this, so incredibly close, Erik's strong heartbeat vibrating against Richard's oversensitive skin, his fresh male fragrance filling Richard's nose and all of his senses. Erik wrapped his arms tightly around his back and made small purring sounds as he dabbed tiny kisses onto Richard's shoulder, and the older man cradled his damp hair to murmur breathless words of love, ardor and passion into his ear.

“Love you, darling, love you so much. You're wonderful, so beautiful, I desire you, need you, I need you so...” Richard didn't care about his dignity and his reputation in this moment as he confessed his love and desire to Erik that ardently, he knew that his sweet young knave would keep their precious times together alone all to himself, not even sharing them with his best friend Marian in detail as he was well aware of his royal lover's status and the danger such confessions would put both of them into. Not that Robert's first squire would ever ask nosy questions about his friend's relationship with their important hostage, Marian respected them far too much to do that, and Richard knew that he could trust him because Marian couldn't risk anything that would put his beloved lord into danger and expose their own relationship either.

“Love you too, Richard, love you so very, very much.” Erik lifted his head from his shoulder and they kissed again, a tender and slow kiss to savor the first wonderful moment of their reunion after all those hot and straining days that lay behind them and where Robert's recovery and well-being had been all they had thought of.

Their tongues danced playfully around each other in a tender battle neither of them really tried to win, and Richard lost himself in Erik's embrace and let his love and passion carry him away to a place where no troubles and fears existed.

Richard even forgot the growing pain of his unfulfilled desire until Erik slowly started to move, lifting himself upwards and using his weight to push down again in a a little bit clumsy but steady rhythm. It didn't take long until he had found a pace that suited both of them though, his motions becoming faster and less clumsy with every new up and down.

His beloved knave was so tight in this position, and Richard's mind was spinning with all the sensations coursing through him, hot sparks of lust and need shooting up and down his spine when Erik lowered himself down into his lap until Richard's aching sacks were pressed against his butt cheeks and his rock-hard shaft buried to the hilt in his quivering channel.

The warm water was sploshing around their connected bodies, the waves they created a mirror of their ardent coupling, caressing them like tender fingers of a huge being. Richard was burning again, but this time not because of the unbearable heat of the yellow-white summer sun but because of the love and passion he felt for his young knave, the only one he dared to gift his heart to except for his faithful friend and minstrel.

But his relationship to Blondel was complicated, their love burdened with Blondel's past and all the suppressed emotions and unspoken things neither of them had ever dared to confess and say out loud, and Richard pushed the thought of the blond bard to the side and focused on Erik's kiss instead, not wanting to let anything and anyone come between them.

Erik must have sensed his short distraction and hesitation though, because he moved faster and kissed his lionheart deeper, moaning into Richard's mouth and pressing himself against the older man with longing and need.

“I want you to fill me, Richard, I want to be yours completely!” he breathed against Richard's tingling lips, moving ardently and watching the king with hooded eyes full of love and devotion. His hoarse command was too much for Richard's self-control which had been shattered to tiny pieces with Erik's first up and down anyway, and the impressive ruler roared as he lost himself in the throes of passion and ecstasy with Erik's next push down. His hot claim filled the younger one like Erik had asked him to do, and the king was grateful for Erik's arms holding him upright as he shook helplessly through his forceful release.

It went on for a little eternity, wave after wave of pleasure spreading out from his groin and into every cell of his body. Richard sank back against the tub with a relieved and sated sigh when it was finally over, but his eyes snapped open in dismay when he realized that the young man he loved so much hadn't found his own satisfaction together with him.

“I am so sorry, darling, I was too fast for you!” he chided himself, “I should have been much more considerate of you than I was.”

“You were perfect, my beloved lionheart!” Erik smiled at him and kissed him, and his tender expression assured the king that he was speaking the truth. “I wanted you to come for me, Richard. You have been considerate of everyone living here in the castle except for yourself over the last days.  
You have taken Brother Hilarius' post as my lord's caretaker and nurse when he had to leave us because of his sick brothers, you have showed incredible patience with Lord Robert's antics and his grousing where others would have shouted and yelled, and you have been considerate of me and allowed me to neglect my duties in order to see to my pregnant and sick sister whenever she needed a distraction from her miserable state. I know that Oscar serves you well and that he doesn't bother you, but it's not the same, even more when it's so hot and you are missing your own homeland so badly because of the heat and your forced stay here.  
I know that you long to leave the castle for a ride, and I do hope that my lord will soon be well enough to ride Thunder again and grant you this small mercy during your captivity. That was my hope and my intention when I suggested our visit in the stables earlier today.  
It was about time that someone thought of you and gave you what you needed, Richard. You don't have to worry about me, my beloved lionheart, I am happy when you are happy, and I have gotten everything I wanted and hoped for.”

Gratitude and amazement tightened Richard's throat, and he reached out with his hand to brush over Erik's warm cheek with his thumb, stroking the still so smooth and soft skin with rapt devotion.

“You know me so well, darling, don't you?” he asked hoarsely, and Erik pressed his face into his touch with sparkling eyes. “Your well-being and comfort is my only concern, Richard. I'm here to serve you not because I was ordered to do, but because there is no other place in this world I'd rather be than here by your side to make your hard life easier and bring some joy into it.”

“I love you, Erik, more than words can express. You are making my life easier, darling, don't you doubt that. Your mere presence comforts me and consoles me when heavy thoughts are weighing on my mind, and your smile makes me happy and gives me strength and hope whenever I need it.”

“I love you too, my king.” Erik offered him his lips for a tender and sweet kiss, and Richard used all of his experience and his skills to make his sweet young knave tremble with desire when he kissed him, pushing his right hand between their bodies to wrap it around Erik's throbbing member. He was still hard enough to stimulate Erik's sensitive walls as he started to move his hips in tiny jerks, and it didn't take long until Erik moaned and panted with unrestrained passion.

The king kept his eyes fixed on the younger man's face to not miss the tiniest reaction to his caresses. Erik was so beautiful in his arousal, moving up and down again and throwing his head back when he came closer to the edge, his manhood growing and twitching in Richard's fingers.

Richard held his breath when the first shudder of his orgasm wrecked Erik's lithe body when he circled the pulsing tip of his erection with his thumb, smearing the sticky droplets of his pleasure all over it.

“Richard, oooooohhhh, Richard!” shouted Erik as he came hard all over his hand, painting the king's chest with milky stripes of ecstasy. Richard's heart felt like bursting with all the love he felt for the sweet young man shivering and shaking in his arms, and he stroked him through his height with stinging eyes, feeling humble and blessed that this amazing being found him worthy enough to gift him with his deep, innocent and unquestioning love after all the harm Richard had brought upon so many other people over the years.

Erik must know that Richard had caused the death of more people than he wanted to remember, being the powerful ruler, determined and brave warrior and sometimes merciless crusader he actually was, but Erik hadn't judged or condemned him for what he been forced to do by politics and circumstances far too often.

His young knave had been willing to look behind the many masks he wore, behind all those facades Richard had hidden himself behind for so long, and Erik's love had changed him and helped him to become a better man, at least Richard hoped that he had become a better man than he had been over the past months.

“Come for me, darling, let me see your pleasure.” Richard drank in the sight of his beloved one enjoying his forceful climax with loud moans and gasps, and he held him close and rocked him gently when the exhausted young man dropped against him, dabbing soft kisses onto his face and his tousled hair.

Erik snuggled close to him with a happy sigh, and his sweet smile made Richard's heart sing. “I love you, my lionheart. That was wonderful.”

“Yes it was, darling. The most pleasurable way to relax after a hot and straining day, and surely the most pleasurable bath I've ever had.” Richard stole another kiss from Erik's pink lips, and his young knave snickered and took the soap to run it over the hills and valleys of Richard's chiseled torso in tender circles. “The night has just begun, my king. There will be more pleasures awaiting you!” he promised with a purr, and Richard answered with an ardent growl that truly sounded like the roar of a real lion, the memory of it still echoing in the warm air of Richard's bedroom later when the two lovers lay sound asleep in each other's arms, happy and deeply satisfied after long hours of shared love and passion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a small part when Richard thinks about what he has done during the crusade and his reign. King Richard has been my personal hero ever since I was a child, but I want to stick to history and what we know about him as close as possible and I needed to at least mention what he did during the crusade according to the historical sources. The Middle Ages were cruel and violent times, and I can't ignore that completely in my stories about these times even though I'd like to only write about the good things. It wouldn't be right and honest, I hope that you don't mind that. <33

**Author's Note:**

> I can only highly recommend Arrested's wonderful series: 'The Day-Dream', their fairytale about Wamba, (part of the original story of Ivanhoe), and the young thief Oscar is one of the best stories about the Middle Ages I've ever read. If you like this era, you will surely love their stories, as well! :-)


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